canticle 27

as i lie in the shadows,
you are my nightlight,
and i am not afraid of
monsters under the bed
or in the closet's corner.
when i am running from
my worst fears, you gather
me up in your safe arms.

you shield me from those
longing to feast on my worries;
you trip those who chase me
like bullies on a playground.

even when it seems the world
is against me, one and all,
i hear you whisper, 'don't be scared'
and as anger throws its worst at me,
you step in front to deflect it all.

my longing to be in your presence
is so deep i can almost taste it;
i desire to wander through 
the rooms of your heart, to 
discover all your delights 
and to sit with a warm cup of tea
as you answer the long list of questions
i have carried for so many years.

when despair stalks me in every moment,
you take me by the hand and
place me in hope's playroom
where we can spend days in peace.

surrounded by those who don't
know me or care for me, i look over
their heads, and see you coming,
and i begin to sing the songs of joy
the Spirit taught me so long ago.

i whisper, i croak, i shout, 
and you hear me, answering
with the invitation to come
and simply sit with you 
on the front porch in that
still, small silence of grace.

you never push me away
but draw me closer;
you will not toss me aside
in the bin of disrepute;
even if my family locks me out,
you open wide the door
of your heart to me.

when i stumble from pothole
to pothole, you grab my hand
to teach me how to skip down
the sidewalks of your neighborhood;
you will not let the liars or the haters
have the final word about me.

in every moment, through every shadow,
in the little child sharing a sandwich,
in the retiree mentoring a student,
in the nurse holding the hand of a patient,
in the prisoner raising a service dog,
your goodness breaks forth into sight.

give me the patience to simply wait,
gracious God, 
for your joy, your wonder, your peace,
your hope, your grace, your love;

to simply wait in faith.

(c) 2020 Thom M. Shuman