Wait on the Lord,
Oh my soul.
Wait on the Lord.
Clay in potters hand,
Wine in the press, 
Ink upon the pages,
Beautiful you are becoming.
The crushing,
The pruning, 
The molding,
Are necessary to your growth. 
Tears feel to be 
The only source of food
For your aching heart.  
I know not the destination,
I know not the fruits
That will come of this. 
But trust the Potter. 
Trust the Gardener.
Trust the God,
Who tenderly holds 
Your heart in his hands.  
If this pain be necessary,
If the trial is essential,
Should the bleeding of my heart 
And death of me 
Bring life to my becoming, 
Here now, 
I offer sacrifice. 
Wait on the Lord,
Oh my soul.
Wait on the Lord. 

She unfolds her wings 
Littered with the anxiety 
Of hope.
Shame and guilt,
She bid goodbye.
They could not go 
Where the wind
Would carry her.
Out of this sunken cave
She climbed
Heart beating 
Ready for flight. 
She was not who 
She used to be.
And she knew not where 
She might end up.
All she new 
Is that that cave 
Though security 
And safety for a time 
Could not be home anymore.
Her season of survival
Was over.
Her season of promise 
Had come.
And with spring rains 
And flower dust
She left her cave
And started anew. 
This is faith untethered.
This is hope unfolding.
This is resurrection.  

“Breathe.”
In inhale
The willow shakes hand with brook.
In inhale
The coral and rose kiss earth. 
In inhale
The butterfly brushes breeze.
In inhale
The sparrow trills for thee. 
“Breathe.”
In exhale
All resounding chorus swells.
And where the meadow meets 
With time,
Earth makes company
With praise. 

You are the ultimate source of life,
My true love,
I should be addicted to you.
Yet my heart,
Body,
And mind work against you.
This flesh I carry,
Thinks it right to breathe
On her own.
She forgets the beauty of having
Your breath in my lungs
And your words on my lips. 

Father Time kept watch
As we feathered our feet 
And laced our hands.
Father Time kept beat
As icy flakes fell
And breezes nipped and pecked.
Father Time stood anxiously
As the wicks grew bright
And strings crescendoed.

Then came Mother Earth. 
Full rage of tempest.
All emerald and golden embers.
She placed her palms 
On her lover’s chest. 
Igniting dreams and desire.

Oh, the torment 
Oh, the struggle
To feather feet
And lace hands. 
To mingle views
And share a breath. 
Oh to court and pleasure
In company of
Father Time
And Mother Earth. 

Amber rays 
Feather my skin.
Youthful light
Sings for me.
A fire invades 
The clouds,
Setting the skies ablaze 
In glorious 
Splendor.
I worship
The painter,
Creator,
Inventor,
Of this ethereal view.
The amber rays
That feather my skin,
His kiss:
A reminder 
Of His love 
For me.
I bathe
In this youthful
Light.
Eternity 
Upon my heart.

Oh God, 
My God,
When temptation comes
Dripping sour wine 
From his lips,
Remind me of your grace.
Remind me of your mercy.
That all fullness of joy
And pleasure
Is found at your feet
And at the words 
From your mouth.
Remind me of your rest. 
Remind me of your comfort.
That I lay at your chest
In the shadow of your wings.

The nakedness of these words 
Troubles me.
I am not used to the feeling,
Splendid touch and sight,
The hot breath that comes 
With experiencing your love.
Are my senses deceived?
Or am I,
By sheer unrelenting grace
Made one with your spirit,
Knowing the mysteries of faith:
The substance of things hoped for
Evidence of things not seen. 

I am full of dreadful wonder,
As I stand before my King.
He sits upon a blazing throne,
The earth his foot stool.
Below him lies paved works of sapphire stone.
His hand beholds the scepter of righteousness. 
He is clothed in royal robes of grace and majesty. 
His face is hidden behind a veil of mystery.
 
To his right stands the advocate:
Savior of our world. 
He too is clothed in royal robes of white. 
His eyes are like flames of fire. 
At the very mention of his name,
Every knee bows,
And every tongue confesses that
 He alone is Lord. 
 
My heart screams with thoughts of 
Both praise and reverence.
Trumpets sound and Angles sing:
“Praise be to the King of kings!”
I am not afraid of the mighty power standing before me,
But I do fear His name and infinite splendor.
I both desire to lift my head in awe,
And bow in surrender. 
 
My heart races as I gaze upon such beauty. 
For what can compare to such a sight?
Where else can one witness such glory?
All of nature witnesses to Him.
The waves roar and crash against the shore in praise.
The rocks cry out in silence.
The sky thunders with song.
The trees dance in worship. 
 
I too along with the sky and trees,
Rocks and waves,
Angles and trumpets,
Lift songs of passionate praise to my King.
I am overcome with pleasant tears;
My face buried in my knees.
I am full of dreadful wonder,
As I stand before my King.

To my lips,

I take this cup,

And taste of bitter sweet glory.

The cup, though won in mighty victory,

Flows with crimson.

Though this crimson be as sweet as grapes,

It stems not from the fruit of vine,

But rather the final breaths of the Savior

And cross.

Oh, that I might drink such blessed wine.

Oh, that I might eat such sweet bread.

What sacrifice beheld,

What bitter sweet glory,

That my God would choose to bleed.

For in in His death,

I am made free.

For in His death,

I have victory.

My God, My God,
Faithful is your mercy,
And tender is your grace.
I come before your throne,
Humbled by embrace.

The dead that lies within me
Screams, 
Craves, 
And rages
In a passion 
Too intense for me.
So I hid behind graves 
And ashes.

But oh, 
My God, 
My God.
Faithful is your mercy.
And tender is your grace.
I limped to your throne,
In search for thy strength.

My heart racing, 
Filled with dreadful wonder 
At your majesty. 
I met your gaze, 
Falling to my knees.
Your eyes were filled with jealousy 
And agony,
But You ran to me 
In love and passion.

I surrendered to your grace.
Stripped of shame and bondage,
I welcomed your warm embrace,
Killing the dead once more.
  
My God, My God,
Faithful is your mercy,
And tender is your grace.
To love a wretch like me,
And find my sins erased. 

Like Elijah,
I prayed,
That you might take by breath away,
That I would breathe my last.
Against the rushing waves,
Of temptation and shame,
I sail.
I care not for compass and maps,
Yet scream and cry,
Knowing me to be lost.
And when grey clouds roll in,
And the rain beats on the deck,
I give into whispers of the wind.
Beckoned by some siren,
I fall.
Letting cover’s crest wash over me.
Hoping that underneath,
I pray,
That I might drown at sea, 


Nevertheless, I awake,
You having stilled the storm.
My frenzied self,
Makes haste to sail,
Into waters unknown.
My frenzied self,
Hated the calm
And wanted the waves.
But you were patient,
And you were kind,
Silently waiting,
That I might return
To your shores. 

To my Prince of peace,

	My love,
	My dearest friend,
	Here I lay,
	In rest and peace with you,
	In En Gedi. 
	
	My fortress and strong tower,
	May I never leave,
	The shadow of your wings.
	May I always take comfort and refuge in your caves. 
	I will dance with you,
	Like David danced.
	I will sing for you,
	And worship you,
	Here, in En Gedi.
	
	My life and bridegroom,
	Forever betrothed,
	Speak tenderly to me,
	Commune with me.
	Lead me forever by
	Your still waters.
	Allure me
	Into this wilderness.
	May my flesh starve and dwindle,
	While my spirit livens and rejoices.
	I pant and thirst 
	To drink from your springs of hope,
	And rivers of peace,
	Here, in En Gedi.
	
	Uncover my nakedness.
	Take from my mouth,
	The names of the images. 
	For you alone I adore,
	You alone have my devotion
	And affections.
	Your light breaks forth 
	Even in darkest nights.
	From rising sun,
	To setting,
	There is none like you.
	All words fall short
	To adequately express
	My love for thee.
	I am forever yours,
	Known and one in spirit.
	My love,
	My dearest friend,
	Here I lay,
	In rest and peace with you,
Here, in En Gedi. 

Here’s to the empty bloom.
The growth unseen and unheard.
I’ve fallen,
Yet again.
I do not know what will become of this flower,
Bred with love and sorrow.
She’s seen some storms 
And plenty of droughts.
But I will water. 
I will water.
I will hold fast to hope,
Or rather, 
Hope has clung fast to me.
Faithful like no other is He.
How despite the fantasies of death and misery,
It is he and grace, in the morning, who welcome me.
I have a lot to learn. 
I worry this young seedling,
May fail in this next season unknown.
I wish she were fully grown:
Had the strength
And maturity
To brave these new beginnings.
But, sadly she is still young.
She is but a youth,
Still tripping,
Recovering,
Learning.
She is not yet ready to bloom. 
I do not know what will become of this flower.
Oh, creator,
Father of your dear sweet flower,
Save her.
Strengthen her.
Guide her.

I see you now.
Bright as day,
His light shinning through. 
Your tears,
Your scars,
Your wounds,
All bound 
And clothed in 
Robes of violet.

I lay to rest,
All vain attempts 
And expectations.
I mourn not,
These chains of 
Sin and shame.

I am proud 
To bear your name.
I am proud
Of all that which 
You overcame.

I smile in awe,
As you take flight.
Hope held 
In broken wings.

I pray you feel the same:
Joyous and proud.
Thankful for 
Each breath.
Thankful for
Each step. 

Hold not unto
Failure and lies.
Holdfast unto hope
And promise.

Sing His praise. 
Sing of your redemption 
And salvation. 

Keep breathing.
Keep flying,
Knowing 
I am proud
Of all that which 
You overcame.
Knowing 
I am proud 
To bear your name.

If love were as a rose, 
Loneliness would be its wilted petals. 
Loneliness would be its smell after death. 
Loneliness would be its hue,
After all passions,
And feelings have gone. 

As I lay here, 
Head between my knees.
You step of your thrown
And approach me. 
You cup my face in your hands, 
As tears role down my cheek. 
“Darling,”
You say.
“You are free.
You are redeemed.”

All the rest comes in pieces.
Memories and feelings. 
The warmth of oil upon my head. 
The touch of water against my feet. 
Your hand in mine.  
It is all I cannot help to do, 
But to surrender. 
It is all I cannot help to do,
But be entirely,
Completely,
Enamored, and enraptured by your love. 
That you would choose me as bride. 
That you would say those words to me:
“Darling, you are free. 
You are redeemed.”

My love,
Take this tender offering.
Take these words
I utter from my lips
As kiss of devotion 
And praise to you.
Take this oil
I pour upon 
Thy hands and feet
A token of my gratitude.
My very heart and soul
Torment me with a longing
I cannot satisfy.
I pant,
Hunger and thirst
Like a deer pants for the waters
To be one with thee.
I wish I had more to give.
I wish I had more to say,
More to do:
As consummation 
Of my love for thee.
But then I remember:
Your humble birth,
Your crown of thorns,
How your body bled for me.
And I realize now,
You were first to allure
And speak tender words to me-
Your kiss of devotion
Your ultimate offering.