Holy Water

By Virginia Jasmin Pasalo

 

GOOD evening, Dark Night! Not a drizzle, but an outpouring of rain. The rhythmic dripping enthralls, this solemn silence that feels like holy water. Not the bottled water poured over infants as they were baptized that required so many rituals to make holy. Not the water in the river of Jordan, where I was submerged as part of my second baptism, witnessed by all the others waiting for their turns, watching my submersion. Immersion. Conversion. Communion. Human approximation of oneness with the divine. No, not those two experiences whose solemnity were drawn by the representative act of organized religion

Tonight, Dark Night, you and I share the intimacy of our thoughts and feelings, without words, and yet know in our hearts that we are one. We are part of the rhythmic drops of rain, the quiet songs in the atmosphere. We are the silence, the holy outpouring of the divine, the unity of the spheres. A feeling of being in the water, becoming the water. We are the water.

We are the living darkness, the same mystical flow that animates the vibrant light. We are the dance. Let’s dance.

 

Sinket (Thirst)

Rain, so sudden and swift
in the heat of the night
I cup you in my hands towards my mouth
I open my mouth towards the night sky
sticking out my tongue, to take in
every bit of you

my face, my body is yours to quench
on this deserted street,
where only barking dogs compete
with the roar of thunder
in the blinking lights
among the clouds

run through my body, sweet water
even just these few moments
breathe life into my skin
open my pores with a kiss.

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