Pentecost Spiked Punch

We are not think like you drunk we are
we are high on a free-pouring spirit

we are not imagine like you confused we are
our minds are cleared now more than before

this is not the feared you nightmare would come true
this is the young man’s dream and old woman’s beatific vision

this is not the twist and wiggle you enslavement to escape
this is the liberation you never hoped of hoping for

you don’t saying what I am know because
the fire has not yet singed your hair off

and exposed your scalp to the holy hurricane blowing on you
and opened you up to the expansive vista of life in the sacred

your eyes are still reading the right words the wrong way
still looking for logic and precision in a fuzzy universe

still listening to echoes of fear and whispers of blame
but even just now something is stirring you to hear again

something is moving among us that makes sense of our non-sense
and frees our bound tongues to speak words of

compassion and mercy and enfolding grace
that make sense no matter which order or language you speak them

as long as they are uttered, your ears and eyes will translate
and your soul will be tipsy on love


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