This is the only Christianity I know:
At the end of each breath,
the death of Jesus.
At the beginning of each breath,
the resurrection.
What happened 2000 years ago,
what will happen at the
last judgment,
doesn't concern me.
The sound of the wood thrush
is the end of time.
Because I am awake,
a dogwood blossom
is the coming of Christ.
Let me be a fallen creature
plummeting into grace.
From what should I be saved?
My soul was never lost.
The One who bears
this pang of fire
in her own heart
can never let me go!