Crying in the Wilderness

“The voice of one crying in the wilderness:‘Prepare the way of the Lord;make his paths straight.’” Matthew 3:3

Eight Years After

Sirens and screaming we held
our breath, our hands over our mouths, we stopped
in our tracks wishing away the horror we begged
God to not let this be happening.

The Towers, Pentagon and Pennsylvania Field
we held our love ones close we called
everyone for safety are you ok? we tried
every number we knew and some never answered.

The convulsing has subsided
the ache no less real and daily
we are broken people begging God
to restore our lost loves our broken
pieces our skyline never whole.

Hear the prophet crying God
is coming, love is coming walking
as a child, stepping into our shattered
pieces, our broken dreams, our hearts torn out,
walking gently, gazing into our red ringed eyes,
our worn out weariness with out stretched arms.

Hear the ancient mystic from the wilderness singing
strange songs that warm us a little remind us
of home and shelter and all the shattered gifts
so quickly snatched so recently.

God comes on a broken road of sorrow
screaming and silent.
God comes even as our anger burns and fear
is our currency, our stock and trade.

Love comes among the shabby left-overs of war
the tired despair that was agony.

The ancient reaches down through time
whispers again what was once shouted
prepare the way of the lord;
love is coming so uninvited and so
desperately desired in our ash strewn
world of those of us left behind.