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Primitive religion is not believed, it is danced!

Arthur Darby Nock

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

Elizabeth Browning



Saturday, February 9, 2013

When the bough breaks

Fearfully
I scramble Zaccheus like
into the tree
rough bark pressed
against my skin
I creep
along the bough

slowly
moving closer to the Sacred One below
peering through the leaves
wanting to be seen
fearing to be seen

carefully
parting the canopy
so close
but yet

and then eyes meet
a voice calls out
come
come

frozen I hang
suspended 
I cannot, must not
 let go
I must hang on
this place is safe 
here I will stay

snap

the bough breaks
my breath gone
I look up through the now settling dust

and see
love and hope
newness

sometimes
it seems
the bough must break

2 comments:

  1. You can't go any place new until you leave where you are. Sometimes a nudge, sometimes a push, sometimes a broken branch He knows what takes to get us where He needs us to be.

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