i, a teen preacher boy. he, much older, pastor of a church... he had felt abandoned. he says, i went out into the field, prostrated to the ground, began to pray. suddenly, after such a long time, a joy came, so joyful the body could barely contain ...
out of desolation he had cried like the hebrew psalmists ages ago
his cries were young and old he cried with them, they with him
how many have felt this desolation? we never cry alone our laments go back and forward
he in the field, face to ground he cried, he cried… again desperation was his prayer, and faith too
longing for the joy of his beloved near and a storm of love broke through the body felt to capsize
can a candle wick contain the sun? can a cup the sea? can a body god?
sometimes we know not what we ask best to appreciate the grace we have
kiss the light upon the shore while you hold the sea in the palm of a hand
did you not know absence is a face of god?
*Brian Wilcox, Silent Retreat, 1.19.22, Ferry Beach, Maine
