Sunday, October 30, 2011

Sunday Poem: When Amy Sings

When Amy sings
I get Holy Ghost bumps.
Jesus shivers through me,
pricking each nerve,
pulling tears into my eyes.
Closing up my throat and
lifting up my arms like they are
connected to strong puppet strings,
there's Amy's voice crying out -
the master of my soul
as God is made known
in the true-felt song
that is, when Amy sings,
so much more
than a song.
Words on screens,
images of knees bowed down,
timing the beats just right,
No, it's more,
it's more it's more it's more
than singing
when it's Amy
Amy is praying. Amy is begging.
Amy is using her voice
to hit her knees this Sunday morning.
Oh, how my spirit responds, jumps up to praise,
bows down
to worship,
aches for the hollow inside
to fill up with Jesus.
And today, I am grateful
for the fire-rains-down
in this church
when Amy sings.


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