Where’s The Fire (a poem)

I work at a church
that sits on the corner
of city and power.
It can be a holy crossroads
where paths and souls
so often disparate
oddly intersect.

The crossing makes me
uneasy sometimes,
the way I suspect a
burning bush might
tingle a finger
if one dared to touch a leaf.

But I have learned that
in the hollow of my discomfort
God’s voice often speaks.

More Sundays than not
I hear sirens ringing out
amidst the music of our choir
or in the pause within a prayer:
a wailed reminder that
world and worship
always coexist.

Today was no different.
The sirens came,
their blaring grew and grew
and did not cease.

In front, a baptism
played out it’s sacred dance
with liturgy and symbols
and well-planned poise.

Then, doors flung wide in back.
An army of uniformed
helpers entered in.
A woman in a pew
reached for aid
to ready, gracious arms
outstretched.

Up front, another, too,
reached out for aid:
for hope, for love, for grace.
The baptized one
proclaiming
with careful water
spilled upon her head
the words of promise:
That Christ comes
and holds us all forever.

Water, too, in my eyes.
Concern for the one
and joy for the other
and wonder
that these two moments,
so wildly apart,
in their meeting told
one story:

Of a God who enters in
to our perfect plans,
our delicate aspersions of hope,
and flings wide the doors
with ready, gracious arms
outstretched
to take us in.

Advertisements

One thought on “Where’s The Fire (a poem)

  1. Pingback: All The Poems I Wrote in Lent | Reverend Fem

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s