Bread and Wine

I’m the joyous jailer

I borrowed all I learned and built two oratories,
One stands upon the ridge, the next beneath the sea.
On high I praise the sea’s inconstant glory.
In depths I feel the ridge move under me.

I loosed a grey-backed dove within my ridgeback chapel,
It dodged the heavy nets and dove into the foam.
I bent my aching bow, took holy book and anvil,
then held my breath and let her take me home.

My blood mixed with the water, heart beat out the current,
The air within my lungs she tasted hungrily.
’Til, deep within my chapel in the torrents,
I worshipped her and flamed the swelling sea.

Where now my grey-backed dove? Where now my registries?
I threw my flowers to the waves and saw them die.
The water is too salty with lonely histories,
And echoes with their drowning, anguished cries.

I pocketed the stillness, storm within my side,
To keep the mountain faithful, ocean satisfied.
For I’m no lowly sailor lost in mystery,
I am the joyous jailer who set the ocean free.