at the altar, down the aisle

at a loss for words, she found a person.
listening for words, she heard vows.
wordless bits fall humbly in a pile,
sacrifice at the altar,
whistle from down the aisle.

cutting away looks like opening up,
tears for shedding, water for anointing.
everything is purposed, each slice and drop a file,
dividing at the altar,
connecting down the aisle.

scarred and marked, hidden and set apart,
a treasure buried, selling all for the unearthing.
all that’s lost, found, a beautiful story you’ll compile,
no shame at the altar,
just your name down the aisle.

searching in the dark, only to find light,
black of what’s charred, turns white hot in flame.
the pure, without blemish or guile,
burning at the altar,
fragrance down the aisle.

the lifter of her head, raises beauty from ashes,
loves her eyes, holds her gaze.
hard to understand such a look, such a smile,
hold still at the altar,
come close down the aisle.

human crashes holy, in a word,
sought out to be brought out.
utterly relentless, and gentle all the while,
filleted at the altar,
adorned down the aisle.

groom coming for bride.
again she’s looking for words, or maybe just one.
never known a lover of this style,
it’s you at the altar,
it’s you down the aisle.