On the one hand, we know pain leads to salvation,
a kind of resurrection in the second half of life
when we die to small selves and enter true understandings of
our relationship with God and Mystery Stories.
On the other hand, we know centuries of acceptance
sermons placated multitudes of people suffering
at the savage breast of poverty, telling them heaven
awaited those who swallowed the bitter bread of fate.
Between these two hands, our hearts know relationship with God
grows when we stand to speak our truths and co-create our home
with those willing to exchange old misery for new grace—
to embrace power to question what is and can be.
We listen to mystery stories again to see who serves
and how no one does it alone though they might start the flow—
like drops of water become rivers rushing to the sea,
like flames in dark that lead us home until day is born.
My blog poems are rough drafts.