Carven angels
On the portals,
Angels with crowns, and eagles
And golden lions
On the door.
This is why
The alien worshippers went their way,
Why you alone discovered
The gates were open.
You touched the velvet curtains behind them,
They parted to let you pass.
II. WINDOW
I make a window
Of you, beloved,
Through which the sun colours
The silence.
Even your absences
Are spaces I have filled
With sapphire;
Your denials
Are burning gold,
I have painted your reluctance
Emerald green:
Your silences
Are crimson
On which your words make delicate
Black tracery.
As for me,
My will is the grey lead
Which I have bent to hold the coloured
Panes of you.