I had a conversation today with a friend who helps me lead at our church. She is facing the growing pains of our congregatoin with some sadness, because the old future and its people are gone. I'm facing the same pains, many of my former dreams are put in jeopordy to step into this next dream, my old futures are also slipping away. I'm not sure how much of this is the building of new communities/families and how much is the loss of individualism... or both. It reminded me of a poem I wrote last Christmas...
-Church of St. Andrew, Christmas, 2006
Until pews are dandelions
–sprig leggy levers–
catapulting young minds into kingdomcome;
sweeping elderminds like dreamseeds of evervision.
Until songs take wing
stretching strong like the arrows of migrating Juncos
lending lift, everloft, and standard.
Tail feathers slicing
tomorrow unto tomorrow.
Until prayers shovelset us into the red Georgia clay
sinking our toes like the magnolia’s roots
breaking open bone-earth’s chapped tongue
making our hope particular and rooty
tangling us here, now, to daily bread
Until our aviary,
a loose canopy tabernacling for us,
meets the winds of intrastators
and towers catch-and-releasing invisible information;
until the long carving frenchdrains spoon away at its stature
(walk humbly with your God)
until the pieces of our umbrella
–the very stones and mortar of this sanctuary–
must join their sister elements
that groan and clap to the song that sang us all into
receive Spirit here.
Spirit who practices this all like Moshe’s bush on Horeb
who sings that song to which our ears belong.
Take the cup,
exhale the gratitude of
carbon dioxide and moisturedrip for the forest,
lick your lips and dig your teeth in
to heaven’s sweet ‘what-is-it.’
Today is a Tuesday,
December’s light is late as usual.
Slipping past the commute
into this morning’s eye,
I sit in my study,
a place of words, walls, and a solid oak desk that all precede me
and I watch this candle devour the cold room
hotter than any coal placed on my lips.
And I remember,
we are already lit. Burning
but not consumed.
Set to flight.
Racing but not exhausted.
And this building already sings
and joins creation.
And the dead are raised in Christ,
worship already working,
and the old and the future are part of today’s