Lent: The Wait, the Weight 3

Held down by denial,
oppressed by oblivion,
as torrents break we fancy them a whirlpool.
Nothing prepares for this crisis of self,
when the spirit, crying, How long, how long?
hears instead the call to crawl
into the dust and weep.

To whom have You dealt thus?
Yet no better are we who bear Your name and smirk
than those who know no different.
Beneath Your wounds, this is joy:
the outcome sure,
where cross and crown stand interwoven.
Remember us, Jesus, when You return.
We remember Your cross, and wait.

Too Much Light 6: Prepare Your Crowns

Come,

let us

walk

in the light

of the

 

 

                        Lord:

the light is blinding   and

the days are long; the sun

confuses us, the bustle deafens.

 

Lord:

let us walk.

 

Let’s leave our cars, our homes, our days

and walk.

The Son has stories brighter than noon,

pavilions for the rising of the brightest morning,

and ways that feet must slow to learn.

 

But come.

Prepare your crowns, prepare

your heads to bow before

His crown.

 

Prepare the day, to slow, to greet

this child,

bright as Day.