“See the Lord is doing something new.”
But not until we’ve returned to him
To the desert where we first fell in love.
There, in the wilderness, we must prepare,
Not in city success or in comfy town,
In exile, abandoned, we must prepare.
Prepare and not receive. Wait.
Painful and distraught. Wait.
The slogans of hope will be just words.
The songs of harvest, wishful ditties.
“Prepare the way of the Lord.
Make straight the crooked paths.”
My heart is crooked by trauma,
Triggered by an unconscious past.
Before the new I must clear the old
Unhelpful ways and wait.
We do so together or we suffer alone,
Exile made execution by excuses we make.
Gather up the harps and silence the drums,
Prepare ye the way. The Lord, he comes.
Written on 25th January 2020.