Here am I, send me
Rusty spoons to polished brass
Fanfare in the distance, sun gleams along their razor’s edge
They march past and whisper in dulcet tones,
“It’s time, time to come away, away from the dreary crowd you blend in with all too well.”
He takes me and breaks me and makes me.
These memories of bittersweet moments,
Things spoken, half-remembered, muttered under breath misting in the night of a still October
Still clear as day, mouth still knowing what it wrought.
Asking. Asking for the wrong things. This path is taking turns.
No, this path is straight. I am taking turns.
Petals from the rose, rose so red, falling
Hits the ground
The caress, the collision, audible in the still silence.
Divine. Divine things. Still moments. Whispered prayer,
Hushed still. Breath before the plunge into music.
Pure. Purest night. Driest day. Desert peaks and misty valleys low.
Cattle lowing, baby wakes, no crying He makes. Divine. Divine things. Hushed sounds.
Part. Make way. Make way in your heart. Make way.
Face like flint.
I will to submit.
I submit my will.
To You be all.
All I will be.
Shift. Gears change. Change before. Change after. Perpetual shift.
Be still, my child. Be still in your cradle.
Run, my furry friend. Run back to me. Leap into my faithful arms.
Slow. Slow you come. Slow you come, and quick to turn away. I let you run free.
So run freely back to me.
Lord, be here-Iamhere.
Lord, be with me-Iamwithyou.
Father, be our Father-Iwas,andam,andamtocome.
You answer immediately.
You answer silently. With a gesture. A sign. A silence.
Keyboard noise. Pervades the stillness. A way of saying words on a page.
Shrill clickety-clack from ever-pressing buttons.
Molten metal, swirling chrome, as though it were silver honey.
All turns to gold, and then transparent.
I taste the metal. Sweet.
Fast. I broke the fast.
What is the reason? To serve.
What is my reason? To be served.
Come back to me. Back to my heart.
I want to, Abba, Father,
Help. A child, arms raised. I admit. I need help.