Retreat Poem 1

Dry bones (A reflection on Ezekiel)

Go and speak the word of life to the dry bones.
What a ludicrous concept!
Pouring one's life out for that which has died,
existing more for what it was than it is.

Go and speak the word of life to the dry bones.
Speak words of hope and joy to the tired, the fragile, the discourages.
"If only I were twenty years younger..."
But Go and speak the word.

Help me to see you in the dry bones
That which lasts when all else has faded away
Molecular buttresses and niches for life
A potential that only you can realise.

Help me to see you in the dry bones
the quiet faithfulness of the inobtrusive attender
the questing desire for a community that has gone
the fact they have been gathered by You.

Help me to see you in the dry bones
A holy man with the tax collectors and prostitutes
A body broken by the machinations of the world
Life being thrown away for dry bones.

Fill me with your word of life
Allow me to dwell in your love:
Not as a place I go to visit,
but that which I abide in wherever I am

Fill me with your word of life
may it overflow from me on the plains of my life.
Do with it as you will,
and may your will be done in me.