Baptism

I am waiting longingly
gazing into the blue bowl,
the font of translucent light.
If only
I had been baptised
with holy water
from that bowl
a shining baptism
fiery sweet
enough
to warm
my stoney disposition,
to fill my grey life
with colour
and melt my heart
with sweet blue light.
If only.
But I know that deep inside
my stone hard heart
still beats beyond
my gaze,
and that it’s
beyond me to go back
and be baptised anew
however long I wait,
however long I stand
and wait,
however longingly I gaze.