“works of their hands”

You leaned in your “ineffable humiliation”
over the wound in each of Your creatures.
You listened with affection and understanding
to each unvoiced sigh.

In the divine calm of Your face,
the gaze of the one in pain,
the prodigal, the one disdained,
the “lost sheep” found rest.

Now people hear Your name
and they run from You in fear..
Has it perhaps been our work and achievement
to have adulterated Your divine image
and Your sweetest of human visages?

We locked up Your love
in thick tomes
behind impregnable monastery walls
Traditions, Decisions, Canons...

“The love of many shall wax cold”;
but not for long
because you sent us your message:
“Behold, I come quickly.”

7 Aug. 2004