Labor Song

Someone once said you had to be good

to inherit the Kingdom of Love

A pretty, glossy magazine cover

but that’s  just a beautiful lie

 

  A gardener named Mercy came and planted a cross

in a writhing pile of shit

of our pain and our loss. of the sin and the dross

He turned it to a dream, of the world made again

of the plant that would grow, from dead seeds he would sow

 

At the corner of grace and truth

where righteousness and peace come to kiss

the Pruner prunes,the moon turns to blood

and the daughters, they  prophesy

 

Life is a journey

all constantly yearning

for the voices in our head to be still

for the breaking of chains, and the ending of pains

and the memories fade.

 

No, it’s not pretty

this grace is messy.

and wild, and broken and free…

like Miriam singing

and the birth pangs of labor

and the groaning and  the pain

of the world born again

 

 

And it doesn’t always fit into

little word boxes

because the Living Word

was never tamed

 

No, I can’t sit  in the back of a church

and silently labor in vain

I will scream and cry out

Go to war  with a shout

 

Because Grace saw my blood and turned it to glory

And there is so much more to the story

of  David dancing, naked, unashamed

It a woman and well

A whore snatched from hell

It’s messy

It’s beautiful

It’s untamed

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