Category Archives: Liturgical

Easter 2019

Something has happened while we were sleeping
Something has happened while we were in bed.
The winter has ended all of her weeping
And spring has come to the land of the dead.

An answer came to all of our hoping
“Come from the four winds, and breathe on the slain”
And the graves in our hearts have been opened
Come out and play in the wind and the rain.

Advertisements

Holy Saturday 2019

Sing to the Lord from your unroofed cathedral,
Sing to the Lord from your half-built heart.
Sing to the Lord, all ye mid-restoration,
Sing to the Lord, all ye falling apart.


Good Friday 2019

How many times has he died today?

In hospices and on highways

In NICUs and in nursing homes,

Dirty apartments and death rows?

 

In how many ways was he pierced today?

By crack and chemotherapy

By fentanyl and friendly fire

Drive-by, drone strike and drunk driver?

 

In how many tombs was he laid today?

In plastic urns and in mass graves

In lime pits and in tidy rows

Left on his cross and to his crows?

 

How many times is he risen today?

It is not given me to say.

But all that is within me cries

He does not die, except to rise.


Lent 2019

His love’s a blade this time of year.

Bright as the vernal equinox

Cold as the rain that ends the snow

Hard as the howling Lenten wind.

 

He made that blade to break my heart

To cut a furrow deep and straight

Beneath the salt and cigarettes

Into the darkness where I sleep.

 

To find and lay beneath the sun

All that which I have hidden there

All the buried coins and corpses

Secrets scattered to the seagulls.

 

Here his love comes, belching diesel

To till the fields of no-man’s-land

Pouring into my ripped-up heart

Seeds by the hundred million.


It’s Human

It’s human to be tired

It’s human to be cold

It’s human to be lonely

It’s human to get old.

 

It’s human to be losing

It’s human to get lost

And it’s human not to have

What being human costs.

 

It’s human to need saving

It’s human to be saved

It’s human to be carried

From the cradle to the grave.

 

It’s human to be dying

It’s human to be raised

It is human not to be

Who is worthy to be praised.


Thanksgiving 2018

For the shape that things have taken
For the bending of our days
From the place we were forsaken
To the place our heads are laid

For what all the ravens brought
For the bread that wouldn’t last
For the water from the rock
For the wandering that’s passed

For the scroll that tasted sweet
Then turned to sour halfway down
For how we are made complete
By being buried, burnt, or drowned

For a tale we couldn’t write
The verse we can’t compose
For a love we couldn’t fight
For however this thing goes,

We give you thanks, oh Lord.


Act Of God

Come quickly Lord

To kick the doors

Out of my locked

And alarmed heart.

 

Break the windows,

Weather-sealed, and

Let your winds and

Rains awake me.

 

Let your lightnings

Terrify, though

You are God of

More than thunder.

 

Call your children

Through the doors and

Empty hallways

Of my vacancy.

 

Fill every room

Beds with weary

Tables with starved

Silence with song.

 

All buildings burn

Down in the end.

Let my ruins

Be a temple.