Meditation after Christian Wiman

Ecstasy—technically—has nothing

to do with the widesmiling,

handclapping feeling of youth.

Ecstasy, technically, is

(to put it gently)

what ancient Sarah felt

delivering a son,

joy tearing at the seams

of you, blessing that

unravels you,

presses,

stretching the flesh of you,

issuing in laughter

if only because the terror
has not come instead.