greed, envy, worry,
doubt, brokenness, grief:
you take the juices
of our burnt out lives,
pouring them into
the Spirit, setting
the temperature on low
and
as you gently keep stirring,
you mix in the crumbs
from the Table,
adding a dash of
of the Cup's nectar,
some sprigs of time,
a couple of hope leaves,
patiently waiting for
the sauce of
grace
to emerge;
almost forgetting the place
where you stored them,
you take the palms you
had gathered up off the road
while the crowd scurried
on towards Calvary,
and with a pair of old scissors,
you slowly snip them up into
smaller pieces,
and when there is
plenty, you strike a match
and set them ablaze, your prayers rising
like incense,
singing a love song, as the ashes
pile up and up, enough
to baptize us in humble
discipleship.
(c) 2012 Thom M. Shuman
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
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