Holy Ground

If I took off my shoes
on this holy ground
and walked the forever walk
and crossed the forever sea,
would it matter?

What ground is not holy?
What sea is not forever?
What journey does not bring me
closer to You?

Is there anywhere where You are not?
All the earth cries out Your name.
It is holy, as holy as this earth,
and forever as this sea.

Forever as this bush,
burning unconsumed,
unnoticed until it is not.
It is sweet forever fire.
It holds Your name.
It calls You close.

There is no place where You are not,
and every shoeless step
is a benediction, a psalm
to praise Your name.

Rise, Like Larks

I want to fly with the larks,
who rise in exaltation.

They know Your secret name
and sing it, each one -

An ascension,
into the vastness
of sky and wind.

a psalm
a song
a glory

Rising.

Perhaps

I stand poised -
I've used that line
before, and again
and again and
Again; there is much
comfort in my stasis.

I stand, bound to
the razor-sharpness of
this edge that holds me
delicately,
precariously;
my feet are bloodied.

And still I stand
longing to fall
to let go and
let be and speak my
fear, lay my shame
on altars that
are slick and slippery
with the eternity of sacrifices -
bowed and bent and broken
with desperation.
My eyes burn from
their smoke, ascending,
twisting heavenwards
to please You.

And still I stand,
and I stumble along
this narrow edge
of bloody hope
and I do not fall.
Perhaps I will get it
right this time.
Perhaps I will,
finally.
Perhaps.


For Psalm 51

3am Prayer

The house breathes
its quiet sounds
an electric psalm -
wordless, and
insistent, and
my soul travels
along its
singing edge.
I can feel its tug
in the quiet hum
in the quiet dark
in the quiet breath
that is a prayer.