Wednesday in Holy Week
And I said, “Oh, that I had wings like a dove!
I would fly away and be at rest.”
Psalm 55:7
And I said, “Oh, that I had wings like a dove!
I would fly away and be at rest.”
Psalm 55:7
As if the morning holds its breath
pondering the way forward--
duty, necessity,
inevitability?
Air heavily burdened with the undecided--
storm, release,
prelude?
Caught on the threshold,
will I dance into this thin place
or fight, or flee,
or freeze?
Still, I choose
the way
