In Rogier van der Weyden’s Annunciation
The Holy Ghost enters the Virgin’s chamber
As a dove gliding on a beam of light –
Pre-figuring the coming act
Through this illuminating penetration
That leaves the purity of glass intact.
But what of the furnace and the crucible?
The sweat and stress of fire darkened men,
The makers of the innocence of glass from sand?
And when the mighty maker, lord of life,
The maker of his mother’s flesh from dust,
Is re-made in his mother’s flesh – again:
What of the sweat and stress? The blood? The cord that’s cut?
It’s only the conception that’s immaculate.