November 15, 2009 § Leave a comment

I’ve been rushing all day long
struggling, striving
lining all my ducks in a row, and
What have I got?
Whom do I know?
Where does it all fit, in the larger scheme of things?

Am I afraid of coming home?
to the silence, to the grief
to the daily, to the still.
I want to go back home
I want to meet with you
I want to see you soon.

Close and clear
stripped off of fear
humbly will I ask
even one more time:
May I come home?
Will you be there to meet me at the gate
to hold me in your embrace?

Let me know, let me hear
just once more, let me see
See your beauty, see your majesty;
more than that, see YOU dear.

Come and let us meet,
let us dance and let us dine, at the table of your mercy;
myself clothed in just sheer honesty
yourself wearing crowns of Glory
while this dark, dark night that’s falling
sets the pace of such great story

Come, my dear, encounter me



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You are currently reading Silent at Memorias de lo inacabado.


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