song of the honey bee

if you talk sweet enough,

you can usually get your words to

drip like honey from a spoon-

you can convince a swarm of bees

to follow you around…

but words don’t bring the rainfall,

don’t make the seasons change or the trees grow tall,

words alone won’t coax the tender seed

into becoming what it was meant to be,

won’t fix the spaces of earth

we’ve walked destructively.

Only love can do that-

for love is tender where talk is only sweet.

await

there is but one word
we await
one word come calling Peace on Earth
come calling the barren to 
prophetic rebirth
calling
      come

and in the wilderness, we reply
we unapologetically defy
this domination
this exploitation
and in our waiting, remaining 
unsatisfied
we begin to dream......
as word comes to world 
and world is redeemed

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.  

Psalm of Rescue

light of life
living water
come and call out in our streets
that you've come to transform us
come and call out in our streets
we are broken, victimized
oppressive and apathetic
so open eyes
satisfy
come and call out in our streets