Of Your reality
Is nothing less than incredible.
It’s incredible that skin could even contain the ineffable
The I AM of the cosmos tied and dyed
In the melanin of a Middle Eastern man.
And just as, that You chose to touch and be touched.
It’s a dirty, complicated sense,
Amid this dirty, complicated mess.
It’s full of problems all too present,
Like odors and rashes
And odd shapes and acne,
Like memory and pain
Frail flesh curtained a Holy of Holies
And touched the unholy hordes, let alone
Lifted them hand in actual hand
Wiped away tears and
Embraced the sinner and
Did this all as a man.
You tore two curtains,
That what was inside was let out
And into us, a closer touch,
A union, such
That separation proves impossible.
The Skin of God left.
Swept away, kept for the day,
When embraces will end: never.
But it still feels like forever.
I wish I had been there.
Maybe I would press this Messiah-flesh
And be convinced of the miracle of skin,
Enough that I could look upon any face
And embrace the Him-image within.
We are lepers all.
Made whole by the embrace of the Son.
GOD didn’t just make himself touchable.
He showed me I wasn’t un.
“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing…”
Ecclesiastes 3:1, 5b
(Liturgical poetry during Lent is inspired by the Ecclesiastes 3:1-8. Photo by Linnea Wheeler.)