By Jonathan Hunter-Kilmer
Your fingers stroke my heart so
inflamed so often burst
stretched full and filled and weeping
and yet the more I thirst
my Lover pink before You
surrounded, pierced I lie
the scattered gathered pieces
made whole as we both die
You bleed to make my heart beat
in ecstasy I cry
my pulse from Your hot wounds leaps
with wine You satisfy
besotted, drunk I rise in
the liquid fire made
and honey-scented sighs in
the bride for whom You paid
You body, soul and Godhead
to lead me to Your heart
a virgin flesh annointed
our union none can part