Weary We Come to You

Weary We Come to You

(“He welcomed them and spoke to them about the kingdom of God and healed those who needed to be cured.” Luke 9:11b)

Weary we come to you,
shoulders slumped by weights we wished
we did not carry.
Fearing future, our breath caught in our throats,
we wait for words like soil opening to the sower’s seeds.
Bereft, but not by birth.
Spoiled by demands that devalued our momentary
lucid dreams, we want to be wakened by promise
that understands we are dust. Tell us
our worth again.
Like sparrows, like lilies.
Clothe us in poetry,
baptize us where the river meets the
sun.
Do the waters reflect your face?
Do the hills echo your voice?
Do we hear the ribbons that wrapped us
newborn with each syllable you speak?
Our beds are sometimes sodden,
our sleep interrupted by memories that once
stung us between the close and open of days.
You know every point on our timeline,
you know every shadow we’ve hidden.
You know the cancer that beat us into
unwilling submission
to beliefs that stained the pages of our stories.
Will you call us to join you
while we flail on the waves?
While we are waterlogged will you walk to us
though we mistake you for another figment of
our imagination?
We would bow,
but you bid us stand.
We would divert our eyes,
but you take our hand and heal
what we could not understand.