A Gray Day

I spoke in a hurry, in a nervous hush,

Because the time was short—

The lightning was shuddering,

Slowing down, running.

Or was that my blood,

The quiet diminishing of daily life?

It’s time for me to go forth

Into Your tiny mustard seed.

In the house of my Father, everything is fading,

In the house of the Father, all the angels are crying,

Because the anguish of a jaded, exhausted horse

Sometimes finds its way even unto them.

One gray day, I was alive on this earth,

And amid the mist of day—in triumph—

The Spirit may approach and look

So that you will see Him, without seeing.

And, so, celebrate the meager light,

Curse not the twilight.

If Christ is to visit us

It will be on such pitiful days as these.