This New
Life
Near the
charred ruins of who I was –
I
discover Your sandal prints.
Have you
come to lead me out, o Beloved,
or deeper into desolation?
I no
longer care. Just don’t let go of my
hand.
Landmarks
reduced to indecipherable cinders,
but overhead, the sunset bears Your
lovely colors.
A glass
of wine would save me now.
My
wailing begins to resemble a hymn.
You
appear in a radiant white gown.
‘This
field is right for the sowing’, You whisper.
O child
of God, the New Life comes from the spent folly
and
bitter rends of this mad, ravished world.
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