letting god be god

he said it in the sermon tonight.

exile 2

I wrote 'me as exile'.
what I feel as though I should have written
'we exiles'

exile

the Jews as exiles.
the Christians as exiles.
me as exile.

my prayer today leads not to clarity
and loose ends must dangle.
but the word exile shines like a beacon;
and your placelessness is my other clue.

the homeless wanderer need wander no more

flummoxed

my prayer grows frothy and wild:
almost painful!
sit on this:
it leads me out and not in,
away, not towards.
pursed lips, a quieter joy please.

so I have been wrong again?
carmel, not citeaux?

my life

my life is a pile of rubble.
no safety here,
no place of security,
only a tent-like temporary shelter
from raging winds,
and dark sunny days.
only placeless, nameless you.
beyond us,
blinding us,
needing us.

the beauty decays even as I watch:
worn away by time and wind.
then nothing is left but you again.
you and you alone.

but no need for flight, or fear!
the beauty we see: hints of you
who, even in your deepest darkness,
as we swim through these murkier waters,
is all we ever seek,
and much much more than all we need.