by Zach Kincaid
I am
two spies short of trusting and
a slingshot shy of killing giants.
I am
tailgated by Baalish priests and
stuck in my own moat of unbelief.
I am
without an Eli to calm the dark and
whisper, "Go back and listen again."
I am
skin away from Davidic lures and
walking knee deep in floodplains.
I am
the eleventh leper who overslept and
the would-be mason that never went.
I am
wandering in a manmade desert and
my mind can't find the well.
I am
hands full of dirt without divine spit and
tugging on your robe like an idiot.
I am
standing underneath the cliff and
it's raining demonic pigs.
I am
up too high in the sycamore and
just one boat away from overhearing.
I am
almost.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
i am almost
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2 comments:
Zach, this is a wonderful meditation on feeling like we're missing God, somehow, someway. Again, blessed are the cheesemakers, because all producers of dairy products are beloved, not just the milk ones. Or at least thats what the theologians at the edge of the crowd (and Brian's friends) say.
Oh man, spent way too much time up in that sycamore tree... the view is beautiful, yet frightening...
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