Dear God, I Don’t Wanna Wait No More.
The days are shorter now and nights, longer.
Longer like the time between yeses held down by so many noes.
Noes that feel heavy, that feel like ends, that feel like looking into eternity.
Eternity is the dance noted by the rhythm and rhymes of life.
Life, which seems so hard right now, but in truth, it has always been so.
So, what do we do with this moment?
Moments of waiting, marked by exhaustion and anger, and highlighted by short fuses.
Fuses which rarely create fires for warmth, for the creation of soups, for the kindling of holy fires.
Fires too often bring destruction, or at least that is the way it seems to be.
Be that as it may, we know different…
Different in the sense that we can hopefully dream past the sound of this world right now.
Now desiring for something beyond war, and famine, broken hearts, gaping wounds and fake fights.
Fights that draw out the worst; not the best or the most life-giving.
Life-giving revelations and revolutions are what I desire.
Desire for something beyond the individual set above community, or the principles molded into idols, or words deified into gods
gods of hope, justice, mercy, and care.
Care that extends beyond toxic joy and infuriating stillness.
Stillness that is often too rigid and limiting.
Limiting the heart, the mind, the soul, the earth from fullness.
Fullness that comes from milk and honey consumed on the sides of long roads in the wilderness.
Wilderness we have come out of, and into a community made of sparks and shimmers.
Shimmers of marvelous stars and nebulas as seen by both babe and Elder alike.
Alike all the saints and sinners, prophets, and imposters, come
Come, Dear God, for we are so tired of waiting.
But I guess that is the point of the days being shorter now
A reminder, whether we like to or not
To find stillness. To turn down the clamor. To look within and beyond.
I am waiting, we are still waiting, for whatever comes next.
All the while knowing that we are the one’s tasked with midwifing You/Us into being.
