Keep awake.
—Mark 13.37
The Beloved comes,
obviously out of place
but unnoticed, sneaky,
slipping in through a side door
disguised as a service worker,
a delivery boy,
not an elaborate costume
but it works every time,
the bag lady,
lurking in the heart’s empty lot,
the street a palimpsest of angels
and their uncanny sense
of the divine among us,
eternal Word made stinky flesh,
tenderness in rough places,
a child’s inept call
to wonder and compassion
that every once in a while
disturbs us,
rends our heart,
and we wake.
—November 28, 2017