In the Wheat ~ Songs in your Presence


It was hard not to need You
after divesting ourselves of all we had
and were dependent only on You.
That was when we embraced the spectres,
thinking we saw You everywhere.


Once I fell in love with a tree I could see
on the field outside the cloister wall.
In summer it stood lonely
bedded there in the wheat
but in winter
it would lean away
from me, modestly.


We cupped each day in seamless hands
but poured it out at night
to begin anew our playful search for You
Whom we could never catch,
even when You broke through our vigils
with bold forays into our circle.


We were but teen
-aged boys,
rough-edged, selfish, torrid, proud,
and yet You held us dear
and pierced us
with years of sweet injuries
that would never heal.


We didn't need Theology
or Doctrine,
or Dogma
in order to love you.

We loved You
for Your greatness,
and the mystery
You were hidden in,
and the ways
You would use
entice us.
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