Prayer

Prayer

Oh sweet lord, is there a place then, let me ask you this,

In your sweet little garland of an Earth and in your naughty herd

Is there a place then, as I was asking my lord,

Where my face won’t matter, where I will be taken in faceless, where it is ok to be poor or ugly or luckless or culprit or ill?

Where, sweet Jesus, if I go and touch a hand or an arm, them would turn my face to the sun and we both will glow in thy name?

Is there a place, I now ask you my savouir, one more time then,

where you could come in, not as redemption, not as resurrection, but as a man of word

And be wordlessly accepted as a man of word?