Mercy Mercy

Holy gold glitter
mother and son.
Theotokos,
saints
and angels,
transfigure the black firmament's
starshine
into new light.
There you are
bathed in radiance
shining up at me
cradled in my palm.
I can take you
into the darkness,
into the unbelieving
and senseless world.
Your forgiveness
and love
shield me from
the hammering stares
and serrated words
of so many others.
On this uncertain pilgrimage
you are always there.
Icon in my hand.
I must not make
you an idol.
You hold no magic
or dilute the nature
of the divine.
No.
You are
a slender thread
to a singularity
beyond words,
thought
and time.