[hello.]: wc

Tuesday, April 07, 2009

wc

the pigment was everywhere

the pants the yellow shirt the un-dry soil I had made to come alive on Arches paper

it was dripping on the hardwood soil

and I was thinking of Jesus

as he was painting Him as himself with piercings in his ears instead of His hands His wrists

and I felt too quiet about it

i don't know am I doing it right?

I'm trying and His spirit rests in me and I believe in Him

and I will fight with his hands as my hands as if they cannot move without Him

until I have become like clay I dont want to be like anything but clay in His hands

I dont want to fight it anymore and try to fit myself into something I have created

and then I will be like myself

so much less like myself then when I st

arted

and more like Him and His version of me

and then I will be like myself

Abba

Father

I cannot do it as an orphan anymore

cannot

I wrap my arms around your neck and weep

while you collect the wet of my face in a precious bottle and then you feed me

heavenly food of your words and my identity

(I am worth it, you say, I am)

and I kiss you and see again how lovely you are

I don't want to forget again.

ever.

and you have set my feet again on earth next

to the peed on, abused, scared, beaten, scarred, ones in the world who have been taught they cannot (they cant without you and we can scream it at them but they have to taste it and so we make gourmet words, meals, prayers of simplicity and cups of coffee and zucchini bread at 11 pm and they begin to taste it)

you have asked us to kiss them feed them free them

and it's simple really really simple

(God protects the simplehearted. - psalm 116:6)