In the Pool

Be still my soul and step lightly into the day;

the dew has washed clean the night.

From the ashes, rise up high;

the pool, filled with your tears,

heals the wounds, the cries, the questions, the fears.

I sit on the shore waiting for the hand

of God to stir the waters.

My crippled soul could never reach

the ripples in time to be healed.

I am blind and cannot see the steps.

I am lame and cannot walk alone.

I am deaf and cannot hear the call.

I  am bound and cannot feel my way.

I doubt the pool ever was.

I cry out pleading to be lifted

into the waters.

Confusion screams in anguished lament.

Where is comfort?

Where is hope?

Where is relief?

Where is God?

Why is healing lapping beyond my reach?

Be still... listen...feel...taste...smell...

Not with your senses but with your spirit.

To my surprise I am dripping wet

      in the middle of the cool water.                                      

I never left the pool;

the living water flows on,

surrounded by the Spirit,

from the day of the covenant sealing.

Be still my soul and step lightly into the day;

the dew has washed clean the night.

From the ashes, rise up high;

the pool, filled with your tears,

heals the wounds, the cries, the questions, the fears.

April 11, 1998

REVISED DEC. 16 2003