About Me

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I write, mostly to keep my head from exploding. It threatens to do that a lot. My blog is the pixelated version of all the voices in my head. I tend to dive into what connects me to God, my community, my family and my doubt. I do a lot of searching, not as much finding. I’m good with that. I have learned, finally, to live comfortably in the gray. In the meantime, I wrestle with God, and my doubt and my joy.

Thursday, June 26, 2014

Dancing at the Well

I danced with Miriam --
In the dark,
While the sea curled,
Hungry and wild,
around our bare feet.

We danced,
Jubilant
And filled with glory.

And I drank from her well.
The water was sweet,
Tasting of summer,
And it cooled my fevered skin
As I walked the Wilderness
And learned to hear
The stillness of God.

And we danced
With timbrels and lyre,
Voices raised in exultation,
Hands clapping out a rhythm --
Hungry and wild,
And the music curled
Around our swelling hearts.

Now I grieve at her well,
Dry,
And it echoes --
Not with the Sea,
But with her silence,
And my sorrow.
And my feet do not dance.
And the timbrels do not sing.
And oh!
I thirst for sweet water
And the stillness of God.



c Stacey Zisook Robinson
June 2014