Nights Of Arum Lilies Poem by Mark Heathcote

I want to worship the ground she walks on.
Belly down in the warm earth like a snail
and climb every lush green leaf stalk-
I can avail myself of
So, as to see God's great masterstroke.

See the Arum lilies uncoiling their starched mainsail.
I want to touch the ground she walks upon.
Watch her dance and unite our shadows.
With hers—submerged
and drown skin to skin in mine.

Watch her undo her long, swishing ponytail.
See how it swirls, watch her cry, and cast anchors away.
When I pluck her flower, she is limp and languishing.
Waiting to be saved, longing to be watered
spoon-fed from my thirsting lips.

I want to worship the ground she walks on.
I want to worship the stars that light her way.
When I close my eyes, I imagine I'm a wild deer.
At the doorway at the threshold of her heart
I love the silence that permeates the air.
I love dreams when ghosts ship-

Reaches a foggy shoreline like tired homing birds
where the scent of purple valley heather
is ringing their tiny church bells.
I love the moment sleep takes both our hands.

And not the sun, like a bad-tempered, noisy hunter.
Who brings the world too close to bear?
And I'm left wondering: Were we ever really there?
I have to wonder: has another snail taken my house?