|
There I am—
waiting to be born.
And there I am again:
lost, forgotten, forlorn.
There I am.
Here I am—
not one, but many,
a circle of strangers
staring at each other.
Here I am.
What to do? Where to go?
What to say? Who to be?
Colors of a rainbow caught up
in whirlwind that I am, swirling
with sudden fury, they remain
blind to work of grace and beauty
their lives will one day form.
All the while the Gracious Other
stretches out a hand, bids them come
children, come as you are, for there is
a promised land. I know there is
a promised land ahead.
Kaleidoscope colors seen now
through the looking glass, through tears that
wash away pain like mist of
fresh waterfall rain. We will be one.
We will be one at last.
We are one at last.
|
Bookmarks
Share
Print
Save