Lent 32

There’s my Peace: rising with the sun
and kissing my face on the breeze.

There’s my Peace: laughing in conversation
and warming hands with mugs of hot tea.

There’s my Peace: standing in determined solidarity
and raising her fist against the pressures of hell.

There’s my Peace: walking when there’s no strength to run
and blooming before the calendar turns to spring.

There’s my Peace: She has not stopped shining and
showing up, though tears blurred my vision.

There’s my Peace: She  knows the playbook of every lullaby
and every rallying cry to embolden my spirit.

There’s my Peace: and at her side is Joy
and together we are unafraid.

on John 15:27

One Hundred & Baltimore

If the Spirit did not sigh for us, over us,
I wonder who would.

Who would hear our stories in their rawest honesty
and sigh in agreement, “Never again”?

Who would sit with us in the silence of shadows
and trace the dust of memories?

Who would hold out the bottle in an act of grace
saying, “Poured out for you,
in remembrance of them”?

Who would light the candles with us, each flame
representing one too many?

If the Spirit did not sigh for us, over us,
I wonder who would.

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Let No One’s Heart Fail

Ah, Spirit!
I’m afraid I’ve lost you.
No — I’m afraid I’ve lost myself,
because my heart feels unfamiliar and
the terrain of my soul is desolate wilderness.
I am seeking a rock to get my bearings…
encountering only wind and silence.
It doesn’t matter that I know you to be
both Wind and Holy Whisper;
here in the vast space of
nondescript rustles and eerie quiet,
what matters most to my soul is that
I cannot grasp you when you are so nebulous,
cannot cling to you as my hand longs to cling to a Mountain
or as my foot hopes to hold onto a Rock beneath it.
Spirit, strengthen my heart to keep wandering.
Do not let my soul give up its willingness
to endure the Absence
and the Mystery.