The ends of me are fraying,
like bléssed cord grown worn from being bound.
I hear a soft voice saying
“is it for you that grace gains ground?—
Or might it be the other way around?”

Another hour praying,
another hour waiting for the sound
of your Holy Spirit laying
tongues of fire to redound
upon me—in your Pentecost to drown.


This is day 23 of LABIA MUNDA, a series of forty poems during the forty days of Lent. 

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