From the ship of Heaven to the little scuttled earth
Rises in sharp outline the out-flung coils of
A rope, bright as gold and growing like a vine
Thicker and stronger with each moment of new time
That pours from the opened sun,
A vine that grows and grows,
A rope that unfurls and endlessly unfurls
Till it touches the world, and ties her safely in, a rope that bears fruit--
Qui tollis peccata mundi--
To drop and drown the sea in wine.
Ah, and here are the old notes of the Latin Gloria!
Trusty friends, returned from exile and
New-flung this morning across the merry air
Like the ladder of Jacob rehung
With salvation passing up and down upon it.
Gloria indeed, for the ancient notes do not hang in air alone.
There, binding the earth to its heaven,
Is the Christ,
A ladder greater than the boat He saves,
The fruit of the vine fuller than the cup He fills--
And real, ah real! not, this time as when Jacob saw
For the eyes or ears alone, but for the bodied muscles;
Not now for visions of ascending spirits,
But for the physical raising of countless heads,
And the lifting of countless fleshy feet.
—Jane Clark lives in Phoenix, AZ, and spends her time teaching third grade, reading philosophy, and making her house feel like a home. Follow her adventures on Twitter @jane_wonders.
— Sam Klatt is an Austin-based photographer and videographer. His interests include art, music, basketball, skiing, and traveling. To see more of his photography, follow him on Instagram @samklatt.