Thursday, January 17, 2013

There is a Balm

God, why do we do it?
Hurt the way we hurt?
Say the stupid things we say?

Where's the fresh start? the New Beginning?

Then we do it again,
and again
and again

Hurl insults like rocks,
Snide comments that pinch until we gasp
Where is the peace?
The higher ground?

"Come to me." you cry to us
"Come to me!" as we dash, hobble, sprint in the other direction.

So you come to us, in the calm presence of a friend
in a moment of unexpected delight
in the play of light through the barren branches of the old big tree.

You seek us out, even as we are blinded by our confusion and anger
Seeking ever to find us, calling us out and into your light and love.



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