The outsider

After Isaiah 56:6-8

I sit outside the circle,

the wall, no way

to make my way

inside, a cold place,

empty and stark,

cold.

And yet my service,

my heart, are sought, a call

insistent and growing louder,

until even I understand

and I walk to the holy hill,

the temple doors open, and

my offerings, my self, are

accepted. The voices rise

in this house of exile,

this house of nations.

Photograph by Priscilla Du Preez via Unsplash. Used with permission.

We move into a place

We move into a place

we do not know

to learn what it is

and who lives here

who thinks, talks, believes

in unfamiliar ways

in unknown ways

often misunderstood

we abide

we abide in the heart

  the only heart that knows

  the only heart who knows

what is is

what it is to be

not one of us

but one of us

a stranger and alien

so consumed by love

the he accepts

nails

gall

piercing

death

I look at my hands

  and consider nails

I feel my thirst

  and consider gall

I touch my side

  and consider piercing

I see my life

  and consider death

and so I abide

I abide

Image by George Hodan via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.