Monday, April 4, 2011

May I Be She



I leave a trail of scattered men
and broken hearts,
mine and theirs and Yours
and mine again.
I leave them in the footprints at my feet
as I climb a hill to a well
and meet Jesus there.
There, where He says the words
that spear me,
says the words
that invoke right fear in me,
says the words
that make me crave
to drink His water
and change all days.
Oh, Father, send me running,
send me flying against the breeze,
to find the women who danced behind me,
the women who scowled and spit
and never deigned to find me.
Oh, Abba, God and Mother,
Sister, Lover, Brother,
may I be the next woman who kneels
to wash and kiss and cry
at Your feet.
May I be she
who worships and loves
much much much
because You have looked inside me
and known me,
You have poured this Living Water
so it drips now through my hair
and over every inch of skin,
curving over spine and soaking
into my heart, my lungs, my brain, my Spirit.
Sweet sweet Spirit,
rising up
to meet You.

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