My days pass away like a shadow,
and I wither like the grass.
But you, O Lord, endure for ever,
and your Name from age to age.
Psalm 102:11-12
the echo of ancient poetry
sounding still across centuries
carried on waves of sorrow
and solace
determination and certainty
relentless
this voice will not be stopped
it began before me
will sing to generations
yet unimagined
and now calls to me
even me
who can only be a whisper
of the love that created me
the chant carries me into this now
witness of tenacious hope
like a lenten rose
pushing forth through the snow
