my heart is a burning wildfire of pain and conflict
a loud blare of frustration and alarm
a raging army of trumpets
marching against
their own breath, protesting
the vain efforts of their own harmony
building, calling, mocking, pounding, replaying
the horror of reckless heat and smoke
until at last they fizzle and fade
to a quiet ash heap
which is where you find my heart,
tracing your finger through its fragile powder
with a blessing, a scattering, a releasing to restorative peace


We climb the mountain to wait.

Surrounded by a cloud, we wait.

While the nations conspire, we wait.

When brightness overwhelms us, we wait.

Through the long night, we wait.

Until the Spirit speaks, we wait.

As we wait, we are already:
your witnesses,
your inheritance,
your collaborators,
your beloved vessels,
your anointed,
your freedom.

on today’s Revised Common Lectionary
cross-posted at RevGalBlogPals

Choosing Life & Death

Holy and Gracious God:

Today we choose life —
the bloom of hope,
the breath of humility,
the proximity of tenderness.

Holy and Mysterious God:

Today we choose death —
the sunset of greed,
the erosion of pride,
the burial of violence.

Holy and Creative God:

Today we choose prosperity —
the harvest of peace,
the healing of all nature,
the sustainability of love.

Holy and Disruptive God:

Today we choose adversity —
the troubling of wealth,
the disordering of power,
the resistance of injustice.

We choose life,
O Eternal God,
and we choose death.

on Deuteronomy 30:15
cross-posted at RevGalBlogPals


My flavor is lost and
my spirit is faint within me,
but o my God, surely this salt of humanity
can still be scattered on the ground
to melt the ice we fear.

My light is dim and
my flesh is so very weary,
but o my God, surely this lowly lamp
can still hold one shadow at bay
until rest comes.

My root is withered and
my dream has fallen on rocks,
but o my God, surely this bare seed
can still nourish a sparrow
so its song continues.

Sometimes the palate dulls,
the basket hides, the rocks hinder,
but o my God, let there be eternal grace
and unexpected goodness.
And forever mercy.

cross-posted at RevGalBlogPals


So close to your glory, O God,
and yet so very far.

Rachel’s lament fills our ears
from a shul in Monsey, NY to
spiked underpasses in London.

So close to your glory, O God,
and yet so very far.

Rachel’s cries resound among
the Uygur in Xinjiang, China
and firefighters in Australia.

So close to your glory, O God,
and yet so very far.

So far, so far, so far.

And so very close.

cross-posted at RevGalBlogPals