Downcast eyes and tears and my heart like cupped, pleading,
beggar hands.
Have mercy on me, O Lord.
How long, Father, since I raised the cup to my cracked lips?
Since I beheld the mystery of Your broken body in a piece of bread?
I miss You, dear God, meeting me there.
My body is well fed and my soul is thirsty and hunger-stricken.
It feels like exile. What are the words You can give to sustain me in this place?
Oh, God, be not long in coming for me upon the waves.
I see You there, on the waves, coming
and, I see the next frame, my face buried in the folds of your garment,
pressed achingly close, your strong arms ’round me.
But I never see the in-between, the rescue, or how long it was
between near-drowning and safe.
Give, Father, oh please, some driftwood upon which I can rest my head
’til You rescue.
