Milk Of Salvation Poem by Jacob Bearer

'Let me run to you, the spring, and drink the divine draught
that you cause to pour forth for the thirsty,
offering water from your side opened by the spear' (St. Gregory of Nyssa)

My lips press against your Side
and I nurse from your smooth breast;
tender with the warm milk of salvation.
And you whisper to your new born, "drink."

My new beloved cups my head with silk fingers
that press my mouth to that fresh Spring
gashed from our shared hurts so healed.

My cheeks bloat with milk.
My tongue swims in your rich dew
pouring from your Side's kiss.

Waves murmur in tongues unintelligible
in this blooded womb;
my eyes dart for once familiar light,
but your fingers comb my matted hair.

Your abundance sings love in foreign words,
like a mother swaying her child to sleep over an Italian lullaby.
And I can only close my eyes and drink,
and drink, and drink.