Michelangelo, “Pieta”
Beyond the stars inside noon, light you see by teaching yourself to adopt blindness, another light waits to be taken on, the light inside invisibilities. That’s why I write these lines, to enter in. Beginning, I am there. It’s that simple. The map I’m smashing inside Mary’s face because I’ve wanted to assemble it so I could reassemble who I am when I return here in my mind—that map many a morning brings me here to pray, by which I mean inscribing what I hear inside these traceries of suffering stone. Many a moment I have entered grace such as the stars, invisible, must know— they never thought they’d be reflecting me.