inherit the wind


Blessed is the dust,
Walked upon and kicked, into clouds
Of witnesses.
The mangled body parts of Christ,
Bruised heirs of a kingdom beyond our wildest dreams.
This wildest scheme:
To take gutter trash,
(Aren’t we all?)
And make the paupers royal;
To clothe shameful in Unashamed,
To heal the sick and cure the lame,
To give the nameless ones Your Name.

We, the poor,
At least we had our pride.
Then you knocked it from us as a breath,
(Aren’t we all?)
You chose to inherit the wind.
Stunning, surprising, and true.
And here we bow our heads, our shame,
To the humblest of us – You.

We, the poor,
Look to you, the Poorest, and adore.
For you embraced our poverty to make us rich and undiminishing.
And left your Spirit in the gutter with us
To finish, dust to Dust, our Finishing.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”
Matthew 5:3

(Liturgical poetry for the Sundays between Epiphany and Ash Wednesday is inspired by the Beatitudes, Matthew 5:3-12)

count my bones
let me be
careful of the cut

Leave a Reply

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

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

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ 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 )


Connecting to %s