Epiphany

What language was my first word in?
I don't remember, do you? Does it matter?
Weren't we both speaking the same bewildered language of instant recognition?
I know you as I know myself, so who are you?

At Jesus' baptism on the Ephiphany,
Kings knew he was the one, one with the one
Who is all sounds, all meanings,
All and no language, though poets will never stop trying.

I cannot say what I believe--
The moment I do, it's empty dogma.
Believing is the censor's juicy black marker
Though this is language too.

You hung a handbag over my dimpled arm,
Tied a silk scarf around my short neck, so we'd match.
It was all too heavy for me, too tight, too something.
I cried, and it stung us both because there was love beyond belief.

Reflections on one's birthday.​