Saturday, July 17, 2010

out of the heaviness: a poem

The world is heavy; we are all heavy.
We weigh so much, what with all our burdens,
and then we lay up those burdens on others.
We speak things we don't mean -
some of which we thought we meant -
others of which we spoke because it would make
this fleeting

We hurt and drag and lead on.
We cause much hurt,
much sadness,
much hardening of hearts.
But can we help it?
Oh, the need for grace, my love, even for you;
even for me.

I'm no saint; I'm no lover.
And even on my most holy days, I am
but a fraud.

Maybe I know not what holiness is;
Maybe I cannot know.
Mystery, you say?
Washed in the blood of the Lamb?
(Opposite of dark; opposite of heavy.)

I saw the light.

(written in the dim light and late hours of sadness and heaviness)

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