The Same Heaven

Sometimes it feels like if I sit

in a certain chair

quietly, precisely

He might hear me.

Maybe if I cross my legs,

sit up straight,

anchor my hands in my lap

I might finally take myself seriously.

I want to hear from Heaven.

The same Heaven

that bonds the chains of Pleiades,

and looses the cords of Orion,

that ancient music between stars,

that disciplines the constellations.

A cosmic waltz in cold and fire,

Stars entwined in their timeless attire.

The same Heaven

that tilts the waterskins from the skies,

that gives all wisdom

to my inward parts,

imputed understanding

to the mind.

I can’t think one thought on my own.

The beast that gives birth

along the mountains

at the call of this same Heaven.

The same Heaven

that provides for the ravens,

and hears their yearning

when they are young,

and hungry.

I am hungry.

The storm is Your love.

Your love questions me,

adorns me with majesty

and dignity.

Send manna

from that same Heaven.

Come to me

out of the whirlwind.

I am waiting

to be found

in the eye of it.

I repent

in the dust and ashes

of all that I am.