Pink sky in morning
Warning me
Of the oncoming storm
My hatches are battened,
All but one
Waiting for him to come home
All lies still
On our quiet hillside
And still I listen with all my will
For the howling banshees I know
Of wind and spirit that go fleeing
Before the tsunami of snow
Soon to curl up under its robe of white,
To sleep in the spotless night:
A promise fulfilled in plain sight.
I am a child tonight
And crying for You to come home again,
I live in the complexity of paradox,
And grace, and sin,
But tonight I just want You home again.
I’ve read our best wisdom,
And I know my diagnosis,
I know they consider You
My constructed psychosis
But You have never been so cold as this
The time between two points
Becomes the shortest term
And eternity ends and begins
In moments waiting firm:
Nose to the window expecting Your return
And I don’t mind playing the fool
I lose nothing to no great beyond,
And the warmest moments I have known
Are when You correspond
With Your betrothed wife.
And if any part of You is real,
You are worth every breath of my entire life.
How do I crack the veneer,
This polished feeling
That threatens to steer me
Into a reeling destruction?
How do I maintain this impossible facade
Long enough for the getting to get good again
Long enough for my walk with God
To break and reset what’s bent by sin?
How do I take every thought captive
When I myself have been a captive my many years,
How do I unwrap this
Bitter disappointment engineered
From my first breath,
To my waking prayers,
To the faithless death of caring
That threatens to devour me?
How can I absorb the world,
And yet be?
It’s time to reopen
Metered communication
The celebration
Of the mystery of language
And enduring relationship,
Beyond numbing paralysis
Or faithlessness.
It’s time to heap coal
Into the faith,
To fill this space
With the heat waves of hope
Draped in robes of grace
Unearned, but unwasted
On the sole basis
Of His interventions.
viewingcamelot 