roaches

he is a nice enough guy- slick hair, polished shoes

and she’s pretty good at keeping up with the laundry.

the kids are cute- all freckles and missing teeth,

they traipse mud through the house

it’s difficult to keep the floor clean.

he’s out late again tonight,

driving his car down side streets

but she never waits up anymore.

doesn’t want to see him wash the quiet secrets from his face

before he climbs in and soils her sheets.

her eyes close to the sound 

of his shame, her own denial…

these roaches-

crawling under the darkened shades of family life.

they make their home in the cracks of her’s.

but she knows tomorrow,

she will let them stay.

an apology.

Holy Land- not mine to take

stolen land,
stolen past,
stolen place.
I don't know your side, 
see the tears in your eyes-
the ones you want to cry 
but don't 
and know
that there is more to this than I could know.
more than cause and effect-
the judgement that infects
the stigma you must bear.
I'm sorry on behalf of those who 
stare, with empty tasteless eyes
longing to despise you
for your story- I'm sorry
that it's comprised 
in part by my ancestory,
sorry that history 
benefits only me,
and
I'm beginning to understand
that though we stand together
on this same street
there is a space between
you 
and 
me 
where we will never meet.

and as I stand here
in silent shame
(Holy Land, stolen place)
I lament the part which I have played
and, naming the history that's 
mine to face
I begin the slow walk
toward being changed. 

the church, our mother

our wayward mother-
in her stainless bridal gown,
stained glass crown...
born in the crux of an empire 
long removed
she began to conspire.
gathering in the ruin of
city and slum...
grew up resilient in Kingdom-come
but fell into the path of power.
selling her soul to feel 
some little bit of control-
marred by complacency and violent division
yet married still-
vows remembered in penitent contrition...

there is still a path for the wayward,
it will lead her forward
through the devastated places
and into festivals of celebrated graces
if she will fall to her knees...
albeit-
waywardly
we fall to our knees.  

common prayer

God of Love

We recognize that daily, injustice stains our actions.

We lament our dogmatic, democratic chains-

And where they’ve caused us to let go of love.

We confess our dehumanizing view of “the other”,

Our attachments to religious certitude,

Our careless destruction of the earth.

We confess that we are masters at the art of exclusion.

Oh God of love,

Let us rise above the stench of death-

For we are alive.

God of Love

We recognize that you offer deep healing for this land.

We realize, we open our eyes-

To your blatantly beautiful story of change.

A story in which equality relocates both the weak and the strong,

In which a perfect love has adopted us all,

In which we root our life in creation’s rhythms.

We see that your path is one of profound inclusion.

Oh God of love,

Let us be swept up into this story-

For it is your catching force of life.

God of Love

We recognize that our complacency is no longer enough.

We commit to justice beyond a cause-

And desire to justly live.

We long to generously share, laying down unequal privilege,

To create spacious grace within our faith,

To seek restoration for this one gift of earth.

We long to heed your inclusive call.

Oh God of love,

Let us be drawn together, coloured by our communion -

For we long to proclaim your Kingdom. 

hymn of the broken

as the orphan 
cries out
on this broken road 
all alone with you
as the unwelcomed 
cries out 
on this broken road 
all alone with you

oh oh
oh God
let us stop and listen
let us be embracing

as the oppressor 
cries out
on this broken road 
all alone with you
as the solider 
cries out
on this broken road
all alone with you

oh oh 
oh God
let us cease to shackle
let us find a new way

as the purchased 
cries out
on this broken road 
all alone with you
as the enemy 
cries out
on this broken road
all alone with you

oh oh 
oh God 
let us be forgiven
let us stand as equals