It Is You Poem by Irina Doichinova

The beginning and the end
Of all that's beautiful and true
It's in Your hands,
It is You.

Powerful and gentle -
Gemstones on your tattered
Robe or suffering
You walk powerful and gentle
Over stormy waters.

Late at night
You bring the morning star
To my window
In all its brilliance and subtleness
It twinkles discretely.

The sea is quiet
Under Your feet.
The wind is wild
Before You speak.

In the darkest hour
Your light is glowing within.
In the coldest winter
You burn in my bowls.

I was a dreamer once
Lost in a world of confusion.
There You reached
Invisible Painter of the sky
In my confusion and pain
You reached
With compassion.

How could I be blinded by death
When Your cross bruised its head?

Who is He who walketh over the waters?
Who is He who blazeth the skies
With wrathful lightnings?
Isn't He the One who suffered
Thousands of years ago
With a wreath of thorns
Upon a tortured forehead?

The beginning and the end
Of all that's beautiful and true
It's in Your hands,
It is You.