Holy

By Stephen W. Emerick

This body. His body. Our body. The Body.

Woven tapestry -

Holy hands of God

weaving

in me

ancestral threads

of holiness -

of my mother and father.

And their mothers and fathers.

And where You and I have been torn

there is no patch but your power,

making for stronger faith,

and where there is no room at the Inn,

there is room in all that You are!

And when I was naked

You wove for me a

robe of many colors -

and when that moment comes

as the thread goes through the

eye of the weaver's needle

You my shroud shall be.

And on that third day

we shall have risen and

that which You have woven in all of us

shall be oven into the Heavens -

and those who follow your

sacred starry sky

will come to find

there is not enough room in all the

universe to hold the love You bring -

yet all that is being woven

through the story that bears Your name

draws us to the loom

that weaves the leaven and whose

Word feeds us all

as we become the Word, of

Heaven.