canticle 99

no single word describes you,

holiness of our hearts:

you sit on the floor playing jacks,

you walk the sidelines

as we run up and down creation’s pitch,

you could boss us around,

but chose to learn how to crawl

on your hands and knees just like us,

you join in the silly jingles

we make up to give you thanks.

you gave visions to Jeremiah

and spoke to Elijah in a still, small voice.

you taught Miriam how to dance

and sang backup for Hannah and Mary.

you listened to every voice,

every heartbreak, every hope

from those in Eden to this very moment.

on mountaintops and in clouds,

cooking breakfast on a beach

and sleeping in the back of a boat,

you taught us your dreams,

you showed us how to care for others.

you lean over to hear our souls,

you wipe every mistake we make

off the whiteboard of life.

you step between us

and the bullies who would taunt

us until we turn and run.

we sing your praises over and over,

in churches and on playgrounds,

in grocery stores and in classrooms,

in museums and malls, on boats and bicycles,

for everywhere we are, wherever we are,

we are standing on holy ground

holding tight to your hand.

© 2020 Thom M. Shuman