Come, meet me
in my humanity
the two of us together
in this dark space and time
meet me
and between us two
maybe
there will be light, yes,
maybe there will be light.
Come, meet me
in my humanity
the two of us together
in this dark space and time
meet me
and between us two
maybe
there will be light, yes,
maybe there will be light.
See control’s mirage
leading us trekking,
crawling, grasping
the course ground
through dry, gritty heat.
Throw out your arms.
Cross the bridge to trust, to faith, to hope,
to letting go, to releasing, to receiving, to believing.
Take child’s pose and crawl into the arms of God’s cradle.
I am not a short thought
in the mind of God. I am
not all light and love.
I see the red-winged black birds,
sentries above the bramble. Do I
stand guard, do I block the light?
I do not hold together in one piece,
see how my love lay filtered out:
patience, kindness, mercy,
and the sediment:
pride, anger, judgment.
My cup is not clear,
but see the cloudy drink
break the light into color:
whose light breaks that does not shine?