John 2:11
I thought I knew something of water:
its properties, the way it travels
down mountains, strong as daughters
as they leave their homes. How I carried
it uphill for cooking, cleansing,
filled pots for those newly married,
and knew the way it smoothed hewn stone,
but I did not see its color
turn or understand its taste and tone
until one wedding I saw the bridegroom
raise a toast and pledge sweetness
beyond his entrance to the tomb—
the water changed like light in an eye
or like the wind settling down
even as breath rattles then dies.
Fruit and tannin swirled before me
as I lifted my own servant cup
inhaling the new bouquet and body.
Photo by Piotr Musioł on Unsplash
