Category Archives: Liturgical

Seed-Hymn

Lay me down beneath the earth,

And I won’t care if I’m buried

Or sown,

So long as your hands hold the shovel.

 

Pour the rain down on me,

And I won’t care if I’m baptized

Or drowned,

So long as your hands hold me under.

 

Cut me down when harvest comes,

Be it for the burning

Or the barn,

So long as your hands gather me.

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December Turns To January

The winter sings a song

Called There Is Not Enough.

 

Not enough propane in the tank

Not enough sunlight in the hours

Not enough numbers in the bank

Not enough mercy in the powers

 

Sing to me the silence

Called What Is Then Required?

 

Only a laying down to die

Only a raising from the dead

Only a mouthful of the wine

Only a mouthful of the bread.


Time’s Soon Up For Time

It’s the dark of the year but it won’t last

A difficult season but soon to pass

A shitty year but the years run fast

And time’s soon up for time.

 

They’re at a hard age but soon they’ll be grown

And the nest sure is quiet after they’ve flown

The harvest can’t come till the seeds are sown

That can’t live till they die.

 

The kingdom is coming but the kingdom is here

My battle’s been won but my enemy’s near

So much to be killed by but nothing to fear

“Rest” says the mountain, “But climb.”

 

Living is hard but soon you can sleep

Tread for a while, then commit to the deep

All that is mortal and all you can’t keep

Cause time’s soon up for time.


Ash Wednesday 2015

One Wednesday when the world is grey

And the wind is calling

We leave the covers and the bed,

To let the wind come in.

 

For ancient reasons, half-believed

We trade the warm indoors

For the howl and the flying snow.

To be clothed by the gale.

 

We go forth in just these bodies

too fat, too thin, too old

Calling with our mouths full of dust

And our eyes full of ash.

 

The wind blows where it pleases, and

It tears our shrouds away

Until we see what we’ve become

Beneath our winter things.

 

Now forty days is far too long

To live so, in winter

So they bury empty caskets

And give our things away.

 

Till one Sunday when spring has come

They find us on the porch

Fast asleep, finely dressed, faces

Full forgotten by Death.


Advent 2018

Sing a song of solstice

Sing a song of SAD

Sing a song of darkness

And the night we’ve had.

 

Sing a song of empire

Sing the poor man’s song

Sing a song with those who’ve

Sung it all along.

 

Sing a song of hunger

Sing a song of want

Sing a song of wandering

Sing, and let it haunt.

 

Sing of a song of dissonance

Of what is and what should be.

Sing a song of longing

For the end of entropy.

 

Sing a song of Advent,

Of waiting in the dark,

Sing a song of Eschaton

For those with ears to hark.


Christmas 2018

It came out of the longest night

When we were full of fear

Riding flame and feathers out of

The dark end of the year.

 

It could have come with fury, come

Down like a hammer blow

But it came in like a carol

And landed like the snow.

 

It could have come bearing judgment

The sword upon the wing

But it came instead with music,

And news that made it sing:

 

That our weeping was not wasted

That all our cries were heard

That the wandering of our planet

Had been towards somewhere good.

 

That the oldest war was ending,

The dreams were coming true

Of peace between earth and heaven,

Peace between God and you.


On The Last Day Of The Year

Jesus come and find me

On the last day of the year

Ragged, worn, tattered, torn

Older now, and full of fear.

 

Still the racing of my thoughts

Ease the terrors of my heart

That have hunted, haunted me

To the ending from the start.

 

Come and count my hairs again

Count the bones beneath my skin

And knit me back together

Where the seams are opening.

 

Jesus come and find me

And make your dwelling here

In the empty place carved out

By the passage of the year.