To the Stranger Who Asked Me About Contradictions in the Bible

May you walk through this world as though
you’ve just come upon a garden. A once hidden
garden. You walked past its walls every day
on your way to and from work, never once
did it open its ivy green doors; but, now! Now!
Rejoice! Now! As if by mistake, the Divine Fool
has left open a door, once thought to be
set in stone; He has flung it wide open and
angels’ voices seep out from behind its walls
and sing to you!  Yes, you! In your ears, in a voice
only you can hear, they sing, “enter, enter,
come hither, sweet lover of all that is Good.”
And of course you concede and you follow
the lead of some ethereal usher whose hands
are the wind. Who guides your gate and your gaze
into the garden doors.

You walk between three arches
which frame three murals hung on
the opposite walls.

The first is of an aged woman with a basket of
grains upon her head; and upon the grains
rests a town, rising like bread.

The second is of several women standing
under a crescent moon, some young and
some old; all with arms filled with water,
as though their limbs were made to rock the sea.

The third is of a circle traced in ivy.

And there’s a fountain in the garden,
which you hear before you see.
Your eyes have left the murals
and belong to a statue now.
A statue of a woman whose newborn child
sits at her feet, rooted deeper than the soil.
Her eyes are set upon heaven.
And her child smiles: he knows
his destiny is set in stone,
belonging to a timeless entering of the garden.