(for Transfiguration Sunday)
Every one of us will eventually be running around naked.
There will be no way to cover our pain, no pretense or fame, no expensive names –
The light there will be so bright that it disclothes us, all of us,
And the fall of us will be mighty and massive: insane.
To what degree will that be awkward for me?
Is nakedness freedom or shame?
It’s valuable (no) important (no) essential – to see
And be seen, for faith is in sight (as in seeing unseen), is in hearing unheard-of things:
belief is obscene!
Such that hiding it seems the most natural way,
Such that He hid Himself for most of the days
He was here, but to several, and then to them all,
Not yet to us. When? Not yet, and then…
My loved ones, He lingers, but still we will know.
And the grace of His lingering is melting like snow.
Sparkle then, sprinkle us, baptize us well
That rising from rivers, and blinking back hell,
You would clothe us all daily in luminous light
And forget, and remember, and hold back the night.
Listen well, saints, His unveiling is nigh,
What once was concealed will soon split the sky.
“No one lights a lamp and hides it in a clay jar or puts it under a bed. Instead, they put it on a stand, so that those who come in can see the light. For there is nothing hidden that will not be disclosed, and nothing concealed that will not be known or brought out into the open. Therefore consider carefully how you listen. Whoever has will be given more; whoever does not have, even what they think they have will be taken from them.”
(Liturgical poetry during ordinary time after Pentecost is inspired by the parables of Luke.)