The Heart in Mourning

[the Body is God’s love incarnate]

I miss your Body.
Not any general Body
but your very particular Body.

I miss the way your Body smells —
your Sunday morning coffee fragrance,
the fresh flowers you set out for every season,
the incense of bread and wine and candles.

I miss the way your Body feels —
the warmth of your embrace,
your hands meeting mine,
the holiness of time together.

I miss the way your Body sounds —
the ringing peal of your laughter,
the silence of your tears,
the clamor of your routines.

When I meet the Body incarnate
in new places with new particularities,
I cry because it reminds me of you.

I rejoice that the Body is found in so many places
. . . and I long for home, where your Body
welcomes mine in all of my particularity.

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