It’s not so
    much what I say
    but what you hear –

    I can pick through
    my words like fruit,
    choosing what’s
    ripe and ready –

    I can order them
    meticulously, like
    mosaic tiles turning
    tiny chips of meaning
    into a shining image –

    I can pack them
    like pipe bombs, full
    of all I know the world
    needs to explode
    what is wrong and leave
    peace in the ruins –

    I, too, can listen
    and lay open my heart
    to the brushfire
    that burns, baptizes,
    and leaves me looking
    for you and a way to say,
    “I love you” in your language.

    Isn’t that the message
    of Pentecost?



    1. Milton, just browsed my way to your blog, looking at Pentecost stuff, and it’s awesome. I just sent your poem to a bunch of friends and fellow clergy, hoping it might find it’s way into a few sermons or liturgies tomorrow 🙂 Need to try a few of those recipes too!

    2. I left a comment on HighCallingBlogs when I first read this. I did a post today which includes your magnificent insight on Pentecost. Thank you again for your wonderful words.

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