cup / path / song / house
a cup
cut with cracks
spilling water
I am carrying to you
a path
through brambles
half hidden, overgrown
I wander wayward
but ever towards the sound of your voice
a song
I seek for a way to play
yet with a broken string
I fumble
straining to give you
at least an impression of the hymn
my house
thick in the dust of neglect
your steps on the road
my table, the guest room
unlaid, unmade
your hand at the door
with no little shame I invite you in
—ZW
reflection: I am keenly aware of my imperfections. that I am a fundamentally flawed human—this is not hard for me to believe. that God is even more keenly aware of my imperfections is a terror, tempered somewhat by my apathy, but more so by the inundating revelation that God receives my little offerings with a love greater than that fear.
when my own children (with their tiny hands) have brought me a little glass of water, or a little cup of tea, and my heart is filled with a full-bodied warmth of soul towards the wonderful creatures that they are. then do I sense an image of a father-love God must have toward me, in my humble and imperfect offerings.
it is a humble belovedness we are invited to live within—knowing it is not the offerings we bring, but our existence as objects of the affection of God. embracing the humbleness, and embracing the belovedness.
===============================
I will be working my way through my forthcoming book of poetry. this poem is from the MORNING section.
in addition to posting poetry, I’ll be posting songs with some musings, thoughts and encouragements on artistic/creative life, sharing things that have been inspiring to me lately, and posting general spiritual/philosophical musings…
thanks for being here. what does the above make you think of? let’s discuss.
Z