Shouting down the heavens and the sky, my
Prayers shatter the air like labored lightning
Echoes aching from my dry throat…
My prayer is an eagle with a broken bleeding wing
Sharing the air with clouds and thunder
Red drips in a stream
Making crimson stripes on curves of white
But my eyes are the blue of seas in a dream…
And my heart is a fulcrum of feathers
In equal measure both conceit and belief…
Do you wonder why I sing?
Do you wonder why I surrender?
I am not falling…I am clawing
Climbing steps of hot thin air.
The eagle’s hard black eyes are watering…
While an uncommon spirit grounds us
There is meaning to this life
There is peace that surrounds us
There is hope that shines in the night
How many breaths do my lungs possess?
How many miles left in my flight?
How many feet?
See how long it takes me to meet
She who waits for me
Beyond the valley of this life,
Beyond the mountain of God
Beyond the sunless sea…
And just before I cross the river
cross the flood,
Seraphim sent by Him
Will heal my wing, my hip, my heart.
I want to crash into the legs of the giant
When my sling fails to bring him down
(I will pull him down to my height
with cut and kick and punch and bite)
He is my enemy, my burden, my “can’t”
And when I can no longer carry him
I will bury him.
And when
The hazy heat of jealousy and july
Clutches and rips apart black clouds
I want to make wild, savage love to the rain
and wind till I drown.
We are like angels only not…
Our wings are a little too gone
Our skin is a little too hot.
Our falling is a little too long.
But we are stranger than angels both
when we sin and when we repent.
We are born of love and fire and lies and smoke,
We from Eden
How will it feel when we do not have to pray?
When we let our song ring on gates of gold and pearl;
When we are not bound to this world…
How will it feel when faith finally fades,
When we can look upon that face with our own eyes,
When we roll the timeline like yarn up into a ball,
Our gaze flashes pink and red with an endless succession
Of sunrise-sunset-sunrise…
How will it feel when we can send our spirit next to His,
Like the woman who touched his garment in the street
A blistering blinding faith and love we cannot resist,
And happy tears fall to wash His feet.
What will it feel like then?
And still we wait
While the star-streaked firmament gapes and grows weak…
Heavens gates wend wider than the sky
And the laughter starts even
as the last tears of sorrow end…
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