I know
your heart
is full of anguish
& longing —
mine is too.
How I have longed
to gather you
beneath my plumage;
as a mother hen
gathers her vulnerable
chicks—shielding them
from all that would seek
to do them harm.
I would treat
your wounds
with the balm
of my presence &
cure your sorrow
with the sound
of my laughter.
Oh if you only knew
how I delight
in you.
But you have been
wayward sons & daughters—
Jerusalem the Holy City
slaughters the prophets
& those who are sent
to seek and save it.
Yet
I would gather you
even still;
—children who cannot
believe a promise
only because it
isn't the way you
imagined it.
—children who cannot
believe my words
because your eyes
have yet to see
them come true.
But it was for this reason
Beloved
that I have come.
Photo by David Boca on Unsplash
