The Cactus Flower

How do I long for this,
this fertile blossom of the dry earth
to enclose my hand and embrace my soul.

Her water touch would soothe the heat.
Her cascade-hair does wash His feet.

And yet forever I, repulsed
by visionary thorns, convulse
at my unworthiness to tread
upon her miraculous innocence.

In body, mind,
yet not in heart,
I feel an eternal world apart.
From she, this being
without whom I may never,
forever never, be my whole.