God is Wearing

Father, is that not it?

that thread between every little prayer

wound around my every discision

awakened between the womb

and my everyday life

oh, how i have sought

to be untouchable like You

yet, even to be like You

and have all You do—

i am still

     missing

You.

this

     life is

just a garment

that You are wearing

for a time, until

undressed and unfurled

You will come naked upon this world

like a limp rag, spineless on the floor

not even able to ask for the life it’s been given

not even able to breath without the body of God in it.

and every threat will be silent before

its quiet tapestry

for all things that have been, are

(and ever will be)

are rolled in a a waste basket

and washed in blood

and timelessness.

for the world, the mysteries

even untold things, must

be wrapped within Your presence

or truly cease to be.

(and my little sins

my quiet things

they are Yours

and You are breathing).