After the Cross

after the cross
under the blood
all darkness removed
in light’s holy flood

promise unfolding
blemish erased
beauty from dust
glory and grace

nothing between us
me and my Lord
all sweet communion
sinner restored

walking together
sit at His feet
rest in this mercy
life now complete

often I find myself
standing without
wiping my feet again
suffering doubt

forgetting forgiveness
living like lost
yet offered communion
after the cross

©Erin Kilmer, 2010

********

Written in response to LL Barkat’s post “When Did We Get ‘Spiritual Practice’ Stuck?“

horizon

by Erin Kilmer

and oh, You are mercy,
love, grace.

when sin’s curse would ravage our hearts,
stealing all hope for any tomorrow,
leaving us bereft, defeated, alone–

You step in then,
plead scars of nails,
death’s destroyers.

never without hope, Your people.
never without a forever of tomorrows
waiting just beyond sunrise.

we hide in hope, in Your rest.

and oh, You are mercy,
love, grace.

Dizzy

Dizzy
Erin Kilmer

I am here, there,
everywhere
it seems some days

where I want to be
humming with the churn
of the dishwasher
and spinning around
dizzy in the laundry

and they are calling me
with glue bottles stuck shut
and scraped
knees and lost cups
and I am here with them

what I wanted
but dizzy, still, and hurrying

clatter on the table
with the plates and knives
and jug of milk
and when will Daddy be home

did you brush your teeth,
change your socks,
don’t wrestle in the living
room because I am here
wrestling with the pots and pans
underneath

and each day we are here,
and there, library, park,
hiding in the basement, sweeping
the floor and folding blankets

and it is me with
them and them with
me and that is what is meant,
what we are meant for,
never easy but worth it

water the tomatoes, knead
our daily bread and read living
Words and clear the table so
it can be a shipyard again until dinnertime

three meals around this table every day
and we grow, they grow, with
buttered toast and eggs scrambled
whisk falling on the floor, on
the baby

am I coordinated enough for this dance

I will find my footing,
and we will all be together
ringing round rosies and doing
all these good things while my head spins,

dizzy with all I have to do,
dizzy with all they teach me,
dizzy with grace

Superabounding

My sin
is an Olympic-sized
swimming pool,
overflowing with
filth and murk and mess.

His grace
is Niagara Falls,
crashing down upon me
washing it all away in a moment,
and still always flowing down.

.

.

***”But where sin abounded, grace abounded much more . . .” (Romans 5:20b)***

Dust Walking

I am dust walking–
dust with a heart of new flesh
where once cold stone beat.

Blood turns dust to flesh.
Dust and rock circulate life;
stone catches its breath.

Time passes and grace,
flowing red on walking dust,
quickens barren dirt.

Less dust– less hard stone–
more grace-blood– more living flesh–
blow the dust away.

What remains is real:
life, blood, flesh, bone– all things new.
dead passes to death.