The Holy Trinity

Rublev

One day, God walked in, pale from the grey steppe,

slit-eyed against the wind, and stopped,

said, Colour me, breathe your blood into my mouth.

I said, Here is the blood of all our people,

these are their bruises, blue and purple,

gold, brown and pale green wash of death.

These (god) are the chromatic pains of flesh,

I said, I trust I make you blush,

O I shall stain you with the scars of birth

For ever. I shall root you in the wood

Under the sun shall bake you bread

of beechmast, never let you forth

To the white desert, to the starving sand.

But we shall sit and speak

around one table, share one food, one earth.

Rowan Williams