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.
if only to spend myself in the name
of some grand dream
if only to lose myself in the mirage
of a million tongues crying out with one voice
if only to stretch out and catch with my hands
that tenuous, shimmering thing above me
if only to sweat and chill and shatter
inside the clenched fist of conviction
if only to hold on white-knuckled
and never let go
if only to breathe in the darkness
and exhale the light
if only to feel the aching heartbeat
of a soul alive
alive in this moment
in only this moment
I was waiting for some directive from You,
A memo, a roadmap,
And You asked me to wait and be still.
I wanted an answer
And You only wanted me to ask more questions.
I asked for a bulletin
And You told me to balance.
I was looking for a rule sheet
And You were inviting me on an adventure.
I was marching
And You wanted me to walk with you.
I asked for “truth”
And You handed me a mirror.
I demanded a mission
And You said “take a nap.”
I searched for a role model
And you pointed to the dragonflies
Skimming along the surface tension of a river,
All grace, ease, and a light touch—
I was hoping for something closer to Alexander.
I say “why?”
And You say “shhh.”
I ache for Your voice
And You cushion me in silence.
Thank You for being what I need
And not what I demand.