lowland hum buzzes
Inside these time capsuled pages,
missing the heart I saw once here.
Is this why I have run from you?
Refusal to stick my hand into the wound?
You want to see and not believe,
put words in Jesus’ mouth.
You want the last words set as
loss, humiliation.
Cannot parse the sense of scars
across the ridge of resurrection.
Cut down your own insistence,
Quick stroke of tongue,
Limp grip of mind,
Cry
My Lord and my God
Adonai
Sweet Unrest 