It isn’t in some hidden crevice,
Some dark corner outside Your realm,
That I process out the gathered sludge
Of moments overwhelmed
To see Your heart instead.
You are capable beyond comprehension:
As I refer to human abilities
To connect the pieces in cohesion,
Our intricately imbalanced fragilities;
We don’t know true comprehension.
We know You are capable beyond
To weave redemption, reconciliation,
Shocking our concrete sensibilities,
Our most fanciful imaginations,
Into humble adoration.
I don’t know
If through this heated furnace
You’ll deliver mightily,
Or if the day displays in earnest
Another shade of Your glory.
But I do know
He who Is, is able to command,
And every moment that follows
Flows from the same Hands
That formed man,
And was pierced for the same;
The Hands that will come again to reign.