Fructum Vitis

Fructum Vitis 

Midday shadows converge on the

Grape that fell from the vine.

On fallow ground its crimson body is

Soiled by the loam, bruised by scattered

Rocks & roots, mocked by circling aves,

Disowned by the vineyard master himself.

In that noon hour, the grape is squashed by

A foreknown heel, its juice flowing out on

Fallow ground as shadows converge once more.



I lie at cistern’s end,
Sinking in iniquities.

My adversary observes,

Mocking my disgrace,

As reckoning rises like

Muck to my lips.

Yet the Light hauls me

From ruin’s approach,

bathes me in cleansing

flames & completes me

in its full embrace.