because
we have preserved our joy
in manna jars
for the long winter of despair,
storing them in the dark corners
of our souls,
we have forgotten
its gritty taste;
because
we have put a tight lid
on our joy,
and put it in the back
of the pantry,
we have forgotten
how it can tickle
our noses;
because
we are so busy
prattling pious platitudes
about the poor, the least, the lost,
we ignore your words
which anoint them
as your children;
because
we have put up
the shutters and storm doors
to keep your future
from sneaking in,
we have missed
the sweet breeze
carrying your hope
to us;
because
we are who we are,
restore us, Holy Grace,
and make us
a fragrant offering
to the world.
(c) Thom M. Shuman
