Then Moses and the people of Israel sang this song to the LORD, saying, “I will sing to the LORD, for he has triumphed gloriously; the horse and his rider he has thrown into the sea.” ~ Exodus 15:1

for You,
shall be music in it’s most violent strains.
in my heart,
for Your quiet, sweet breathed triumph,
may You find music.

in its fullest flower…




Leaning into Hope

“But for you who fear my name, the sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings. You shall go out leaping like calves from the stall.”  ~ Malachi 4:2 

You come close,

fresh, with the fleetness of summer.
Sun of Righteousness, with healing in Your wings,

teaching my soul to Hope- yea,

not just to Hope…
to Hope, continually.


today, in today’s stillness
the burned-out, wanting edges of my heart,
brim with petitions, You have heard a thousand times…
and yet, in Your sweetly silent, forbearing mercy-

You stand close to hear, just once more.

i must accept,
knowing You, Who created me,
that there must be something good,
in all this wanting.
in all these tumbling desires,
curling, crumbling, upward like burning paper,
always looking up, even when in weariness,
they weep.
always, somehow, hopeful,
like the asking child’s face, bent in a parent-ward looking
and waiting, and petitioning, and wondering…

…Help me to watch and wait for you, 
more than watchmen wait for the morning…

Lord, Who made mankind to build and to plant,
to explore and subdue.
the Fire of Your awareness, Your ability to feel, to love and desire,
is in us, Your creatures – stamped, inscribed, imprinted indelibly, – still.

You see, the bold stamp of Your own capability in me,
and yet You also see my selfishness, my near-sightedness, my folly, my sin.

O’ Lord, break and blow, and breathe Your own desires into me,
one of Your questioning creatures, who was always born desiring…

Sanctify, with Your own, quiet, Fathering glance,
the mumbling, magnificent, imperfect wonderings- the wantings of my soul,
and place in these two, asking hands the perfect, waiting fullness-
of Yourself.

Calm today’s chirrupings, the calling of tireless crickets,
the oh, so pleasant, moan and whine,
of unfulfilled desire,

with the wholeness,
the maturity,
the becoming

of coming to want,
in all these wantings…

nothing, so truly,
as i want