Friday, April 4, 2014

The tent outside

We watch as he walks softly,
firmly through the rows
of the camp, an old man yet
walking with the stride
of a younger. He turns neither
to the right nor the left, his gaze
fixed on the tent outside,
the one waiting for him. He enters
the tent as the cloud descends,
the sign that we are to bow
at the threshold of our own tents,
knees bent and head touching
the ground. We hear nothing
from the cloud but we know
to wait, wait for the ascent,
the sign that it is done.
He walks back, turning neither
to the right nor the left, his mind

fixed on the tent outside.

1 comment:

kchripczuk said...

Such an invitation here, Glynn, thank you. We just moved and now have a little retreat house on our property. I have a sense that God is waiting there (and everywhere, of course). You've depicted well how God's spirit draws us and the chutzpah it takes to walk with purpose (and surrender) toward that place of meeting.