O Key of David
Come
Mystery beyond my control
Come
Who cannot be boxed
Come
Who seeks my all,
and nothing less
Come
who comes
on the late afternoon breeze
in the quickening pace of last minute shopping
in excited squeals
and overwhelmed tears
Who comes
in the midnight silence of those
Keeping vigil
the cloistered ones
the mothers
the ill
in ancient words of emmanuel
come.
I was made for Afternoons
Liturgy, Music, Politics, Faith
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Come
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Advent 3
blurry mornings
weary bones
days warm
minds slow
sitting
waiting
longing
heart needing
warming
despite the weather
that day
which dawns everything
still comes too quick
it's surprise leaving
me
breathless
solitary
as if there is just
the child and I
as if we two
can make the world whole
through our shared gaze
i have no gift to bring
but this torn
tired
soul
bent out of shape
a year of encounters
leaving their mark
the child
has no wealth
nothing
but love
weary bones
days warm
minds slow
sitting
waiting
longing
heart needing
warming
despite the weather
that day
which dawns everything
still comes too quick
it's surprise leaving
me
breathless
solitary
as if there is just
the child and I
as if we two
can make the world whole
through our shared gaze
i have no gift to bring
but this torn
tired
soul
bent out of shape
a year of encounters
leaving their mark
the child
has no wealth
nothing
but love
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