Your Eternal Yes
Show me a quietly place in Your sun;
Stretch out my lowly side in the soil.
Massage my wincing coldness in rays
Of blinding, reviving Yes-ness of hope;
When sideways and downwards crawling I stand,
When soon my backwards is close to Your side,
Encircle me; rewrite Your name in my hand.
Scratch out my dust places: make them Your sand.
Let Your new-making warmness enfold and console me,
While You tell to me places I have never seen,
Of trees that enslaved You, of slaves that are free,
While I, ever nothing, have nothing to give.
At canyons and caverns, show me Your depths;
Energise me for the leap I must take;
In soaring, restoring flights of grace bounding,
Swoop in me, pour me, in Your eternal Yes.
The Consolations of Writing 