Breathe

Changes are always rolling our way. Some we know about, some we don’t. After Jesus had gone, the disciples waited for the promised coming of the Holy Spirit, God’s presence and power with them for all the times to come. They had gone through a lot of changes, and more were to come, but rather than ignoring or hiding from these changes, I noticed that they spent time praying (see Acts 1:12 – 2). This poem is about following the disciples’ example to pray about change and seek ways we can be transformed positively by it, as they were by the Holy Spirit when it arrived in wind and fire.
 
God bless
 
“Breathe”
 
we wait in the shadow
of the upper room.
We have been told that change
is coming again. I duck my head
and hold my breath.
 
pages from the past tell of
men who waited for change
in the upper room, but they
did not neglect the air they
needed. They
breathed
prayer.
 
I hear it coming now, a bellow
to rattle the fragile and the new
stones I assembled in the wake
of the last blow. At last I look up and
breathe
prayer.
 
It is here, a crash into my heart—
a shifting, a whirling, a pain.
I am not ready, but I am open now
to God’s Spirit, for when I learned to
breathe prayer in the waiting, I also learned
to speak in the wind. Standing in the blowing change,
I become a tongue of fire
and voice.
 
 
Creative Commons License
Breathe by Briana Batty is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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Sky

For those grieving, here a poem about believing that we remain united in spirit and love.
 
God bless
 

“Sky”
 
the sky isn’t as simple as
     white against blue. Unstoppable wind
          churns simplicity into chaos.  
Staring into the rippling,
         building clouds, now gray-on-white, I
             realize I won’t see your face again. Invisible
             motion has claimed you.
 
In my deepest bones I know that
     clouds touch down in a fog on my world
                        and I will someday step out into it
                             to join their quiet blur.
your love will greet me there with
        all its caring, generous, laughing, and
            joyous spirit.
that spirit is what I miss the most, but here
     is the touch of blue on white and charcoal, 
     mixing into a gray palette. A soft touch.
There: the universe has painted us with one breath.
        On my aching days, I hear it blowing by.

 
 
Creative Commons License
Sky by Briana Batty is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.