A darkness, a peace – Part ii

It is both dark and peaceful. It is dark because we truly don’t know how the future will play out. We give ourselves to a silent death, death by a slow fire… But this silent flame is hard to perceive. You might not see it. Those who love you might not see it. But God is burning away all you have depended on.  But don’t worry… this slow burning death is not only dark, it is also peaceful. — Let God; Winn Collier

I have great hope
that in all things,
in every stumbling, staggering,
tremble-handed way and thought,
you are drawing near to me –
calling that wilderness heart of mine
what it truly is.
I cleave to great hope,
that my babbling
neverending consonant and vowel
one after the other
after the other –
great hope that in all
through all
I am tripping into surrender;
opening wider my heart to all that you are,
shrinking less,
shedding the fear that
I’m wrong — and you hate wrong.
How could I know, that
the moment I unfurl,
you will cover me?

A darkness, a peace – Part i

It is both dark and peaceful. It is dark because we truly don’t know how the future will play out. We give ourselves to a silent death, death by a slow fire… But this silent flame is hard to perceive. You might not see it. Those who love you might not see it. But God is burning away all you have depended on.  But don’t worry… this slow burning death is not only dark, it is also peaceful. — Let God; Winn Collier

The sun settled in fire and ash that night –
a long, smoldering sigh,
drawn out in cool wind,
an ache and a kiss,
unquenched longing; restless, constant call

and I hesitate to bring such an unpoetic thing
as television,
into the sacred realm of poetic

why do I fear its marring?
is truth not true enough for sacred ground?

still, I cannot deny
that I drank in the fullness
of that aching, ashen sky
and carried it in my lungs
all the way to the television,
where I held it for two hours worth
of another being’s made-up story,
the whole of it burning, quietly
there in my chest – quivering and wrestling
as I hoped for the chase
of my own story –
the sky-wide-wind in my lungs deepened,
and my own muddled, desirous
fiery ache and kiss
found good company there.

Oh, hope that does not disappoint,
show your face in the fire,
harness the wind I swallowed
and call it faithful
call it true.