How sweet it would be
to fall like sugar in tea—
to swirl, dissolve,
and disappear
into each other,
until there is
no more you,
no more me,
only one
delicious whole.

I pray for rain, O Lord—
not drops, but a storm,
not calm, but the flood.
Let Your waters rise in me.
Let them swell the river
and break my banks.

Do not leave me dry-eyed,
a bystander on the shore—
Lord, save me
from becoming lukewarm,
a mere spiritual ******.

No!—sweep me away,
even when I tremble
and cry out in fear.

Let me be taken
by the current of Love,
tossed and turned,
drowned and delivered
forever more,
into Your depths.

Not by my strength,
but by surrender.
Not by knowing,
but by longing.

Carry me endlessly
down the Holy River—
the river of devotion,
that leads
from me
to You.

I want you sick,
full of the fever of life,
so hot, so fierce—
a love
you can’t stop
singing and dancing
for beauty and truth.

Heavy tears slip
past throbbing cheeks,
as temples splinter,
bone collapsing
under the weight
of broken screams,
a silent prayer
rising from the belly’s pit.

Bruised knees bow
beneath the crush
of dreams unlived,
and nightmares
too often
relived.