Saint Theresa Cycle

You are Saint Theresa,
Quiet heaven-nomad.
You bore and delight me
In the Spanish red sun.
Your pale, white skin emits
The light of a glory
That I don't want to touch
And yet need all the same.
You are the confusion
At the core of desire,
The one meddling note on
A piano fine tuned.
Your vast faults amaze me,
They make you more perfect.
I cannot deny you
So my love will remain.

Hold fast your ecstasy
When the Angel's touch comes,
Save hope for my dread nights
And the light in the day.
You've been born in my thoughts,
A cherry tree untouched,
White as a phantom free
From time's steadfast dust.
In my orchard of doom
I watch you from Eden,
How your beauty tries fade
Then returns twice as strong.
I will love you always
In the distance I keep,
Your shadow, my idol
Before God and His trust.

(But when the Angel came she saved nothing for me)

My own Saint Theresa,
Who first knew Angel's touch,
You were better before
When you roamed my dreams' halls.
You erased all heaven
From my heart with a word.
All good things were made black
When you were not alone.
How I hated you then,
With no means to forgive,
But that hate became seed
To a love deeper known.
In the labyrinth of need
I see her as holy.
Could I be ecstasy
Where Angel light has shone?

07/09