Here is her hand.
There is her foot.

Here you can stare at her skull
encased in thick glass—

Behind bars
as the church likes to keep her,

Though now with purported admiration
and some measure of veneration.

But what you have missed
in the pomp and circumstance

is that she is forever faithful, free
from being tied to your circuitry.

She is alive and I love her.
I am alive and she loves me.

So mix her up and make of her
what you will. Seek your definition.

But know her joy in seeing all things risen
will not be contained, cajoled, controlled.

Feast if you will. Seek her prayers should you choose.
Know more than pieces of she you seek to break or use.

There is no denial of a testimony that rings,
true as the bells of a holy matrimony:

"I have seen the Lord!"
Word and flesh births worlds.

Two who belong to each other,
for eternity, to this revelation of a mystery.