I fail and I fall.
Yes, Father, it’s me, again.
My prayers and tears reach Your heart
With plaintiff sighs.

I reach for Love,
As a baby grasps the finger,
Securing You to my heart,
Binding You by trifles.
A thousand little moments,
Like a knitter’s weave,
Trivial triumphs conquering like souls,
For made in Your image, I desire only You.

Of wooing, my begging be a part.
I turn, my God, to You
As a prayer with every care.
Prayer and tears, now, all one.
I nestle to Your breast
And am all ear.

I listen as beat upon beat,
Love’s rhythm reassures me of the next
And of Your eternal constancy.
I listen, as for a whisper,
And fear not to whisper every care
And fretful prayer.

I reach for You with every breath,
And sigh when You draw nigh.
You answer with a mother’s warmth,
Bending low, picking me up, pressing me
To Your great and consoling bosom.

“What is it my child. Am I not here?
Haven’t I given you all?”
You kiss away my tears,
And delight in the exchange.
I have given nothing but complaint,
Yet You are full of smiles.

A thousand little moments knit our day.
I cry and You comfort.
I beckon and You bend in kind regard.
You draw me into that chamber,
In which I was formed,
That hallowed space,
In which my time began.

Heaven and rest contained
In one all holy Name.
Name me, my God,
And I will come into being,
Called forth from my darkness
Into Your marvelous Day.

All our moments measured by Your mercy,
I cry out for a heart made unto Your own,
That I may grow to give Your Love.
Love begetting love, for love alone.

©2010 Joann Nelander