sometimes, words won’t do
they are just too tiny
just too constrained
but the absence of words
can leave an awkward emptiness
a sense of isolation
so let us build
a tiny bridge,
a fragile conduit
with our words
let us reach
with faltering hands
to touch the cheek of hope –
the hope that we all share
the hope that we might be
both truly ourselves
and truly one
with all that is
such is the gift of God
selfhood and community
a mystery to be honored
with our tiny, hopeful words
[photo by Jennifer Fred Merchán per cc 2.0]
When I encounter a problem, a conundrum, a quandary,
I want to fix it, as quickly as possible.
I work with what I know, and who I am, and what I have
To find a way around or through.
And that, sometimes, creates a bigger problem
My preconceptions get in the way.
If I could back off far enough, or shed my frame,
The problem might just be transformed.
Instead I build a kludge,
A work-around of convoluted wires and patches.
I solve one problem and create another.
Too often, it seems my theology is a mass of kludges –
My own and those of others.
The longer I stay in my head,
Requiring explanation or understanding,
The longer I delay delight.
For somewhere beyond what I can grasp,
You wait to gather me in.
I am bound by my own befuddlement.
But even in that moment,
You find a way to set me free.
Slowly, I am learning to release my questions
And, instead, be held by wonder.
[photo by Marco Assini per cc 2.0]