We were sitting around talking
about how he loved us,
when it flared up in us—not a memory,
but inward fire, the love itself,
like a mother’s love that drives her
into a burning house to save her children—
his love, this unbidden passion
for the world, flamed up in us
and drove us into the streets
to seek the stranger, to embrace
the foreigner, and to speak—
how to convey it?—this love
for all who’d been told
they were outsiders,
in languages not our own:
locked doors opened,
fruit placed in their mouths,
hands laid on their shoulders,
belonging nested in the crib
of their hearts. Homecoming.
That day there were no strangers.
We were all kin, all learning
how to listen together for the first time
to this mystery rising up to greet us
in each other, all of us losing
our tongues for the language of God.
Then we knew that fire Jesus had
had not been put out:
it was in us, now, spreading, yes, actually,
like wildfire.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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