Psalm of Waiting

We are always in Advent.

Dry Bones Rattling

Advent, December 2014

“Then my bones drop away
like petals, my bones wither
and scatter and still I am waiting
empty as grey arching sky, waiting…”
– Marge Piercy

Eric Garner Vigil, Andrew2

It is cold and growing colder and still we are waiting. We are waiting together, losing and finding our breath together, dying and rising all over town. Our footsteps burn holes in the pavement but we cannot stop. We are windstorms and waiting, holy restlessness and harvest. We are moving forward against all odds, lit by something within, waking up to the power of who we are together.

Last week, we died on Broadway, we died on I-24, we died in the Gulch, in the mall at Green Hills, and at the convention center. We lay on the cold pavement together in silence with the names of the slain on our lips looking upward at city lights and the arching sky…

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