Since long before our birth

I heard a thump this morning,
and flew to the window to find
a tiny sparrow had broken her neck,
flying into her own reflection.
I held her in my hand
and felt the echo of your love for me;
a tenderness, as I watched her eye
slowly close, and felt the warmth
fade quietly away from her feathered breast.
How foolishly we, too, break our necks
and backs, bending over backward
to please and enhance our own reflections,
never looking past the face
made in the image of God
to see the love that has cradled us
and cared for us without reserve
since long before our birth...

Sheep or goat?

Which is it that she is today --
or is she always just a bit of both?
Some part of her that listens
shares the stage
with some ferocious beast
that longs to butt heads:
one part accepts with grace,
the other, always confrontational...
Perhaps that was the wisest thing,
to put one on your left,
the other on your right;
that your love might reconcile us
each to each and to ourselves.

Wild beasts and angels

Who dances here
inside our souls?
Wild beast, or angel --
and how are we to tell
which beast is which?
They may not have been
dressed as we'd expect;
might prove more playful
than we would deem wise.
Though robed in white,
the tattered clothes might indicate
a certain shabbiness of purpose;
a willingness to bend and sway
when we assumed upright should be
the order of the day...
Help us, we pray,
to know and love them both.

Interior separations

Some part of me,
some huge and anxious
primal beast
lies trapped behind
some bright invisible wall,
imprisoned by my tidy brain
whose pressed white shirt
is crumpled only lightly
by the pack of concepts
learned along the way.
This neatly packaged
carefully constructed self
stares through, but dares not look
into those frightened eyes.
When will I breach the boundary
to touch and reassure the heart
that beats so frantically within?

When will I learn?

Looking down
into the depths
of my own soul
I watch,
and feel the (largely unwarranted)
terror rushing in
and wonder:
why,
after all this time and work
is it still so hard
to stem the tide?
When
will I learn
to trust
in
You?

Left wing or right

Each wing, so differently designed,
some feathers short and others long,
and yet -- bone, muscle, feather --
all mirrored here; each side unique
and yet the same. Whatever differences
they may proclaim while on the ground
must surely be resolved in flight; when
working in concert to lift, or dive;
to soar above the sea, and glide
in perfect harmony. Left wing or right:
let all dissension cease, and lift
our one united heart in airborne song.

Desiring to Desire

Gracious Lord, You have blessed us
with such abundance --
help us to convert our longings
for that which you are
not prepared to give
into a heartfelt hunger
for that which you desire
for us and through us,
that we may align ourselves
more fully with your grace
and follow more intentionally
where only You can lead.
Amen.

(Written in response to today's reading from Richard Rohr's new Lenten guide,  
Wondrous Encounters: Scripture for Lent.)