Kenosis

[Leanne]

You live beneath the swelling
 -- I love the break here, it lets "swelling" work as both a gerund and a modifier
sky in a world without wind.

The firmament weakening
 -- but here, you might be better off with one less -ing, possibly "weakens"
becoming too small

to cope with your immensity—

your singular existence.



Hands brush

against the tether:

this breakfast of blood,

your daily offering.

You rise


both God and worshiper,
alone in the unbearable light.


The title gives enormous depth to the poem, with connotations of both humility and divinity (or perhaps the idea that they're the same thing, in the right kind of God). Though there are Christian overtones, I'm left with the impression of a more personal awakening, a dreaded shedding of innocence. I like it a lot