I am what You have made of me

You have pressed my brokenness between Your palms
and made of me a new kind of ordnance,
dense, weighty, deceptively simple and small.
You heft me from hand to hand
with fierce joy,
enjoying Your work,
savoring Your plan.
I am the stone in the slingshot,
the sickle in the field.
I am a bullet in the chamber
waiting for a spark,
I am the arrow held between Your fingers,
eager for flight.

waiting for You

even as my heart is breaking for the crippling agonies I see
in every passing face, in every hidden mysterious heart
even as my tears are falling for the ignorance
the arrogance, the violence
of a people created for loveliness and power
and even as I curl my fist in anger
at an Enemy that sows confusion and despair
into souls so beautiful and infinite that not even the universe
in all its glittering array, could contain the glory of a single one
even as I stand still
within the spinning madness of what we have become
my eyes are lifted
my hands outstretched
I am waiting for the rain
I am waiting for You