Reclaimed

A hill of splintered boards,

twisted nails and scaling paint

Grieving purpose, trueness,

the weight of glory shouldered by insufficient might

cracked with dirt, ware, marked and hewn and forgotten

a pile of Ebenezers, bent in a story arc. 

Leaning, longing

soaked through and rotting, and the thorns surround

Can we be reclaimed?

You wind the forest floor

Knowing the loop and bend of the old road,

the slanted foundations, the just so rooms

as you lift and sift, scour and pick,

smelling the moss-covered bones. Uncovering your seal

And we are.

we begin

as the light breaks, the cracks you embrace,

and trace and gild.

bedrock unearthed, a foothold pinned and secure

As you stack and steady,

adding the corner and the door.

Rearranging shatters, a scaffold

framed grace

We are Your reclaimed

purpose reclaimed as even we

shoulder the next,

as each bears the corbeled neighbor

bonded with threads of creation dust.

We are Your reclaimed

as eaves loft, flying

upward, bridging and fastened and readied.

We are the created

as You abide, as You rest.

As you hone the edges with a swelling glory,

a gathering and a feast

Are we good because of your hands?

We are the created and

we then…

shelter Your created, Your beloved.

We are the rafters, the lintels, the frame.

We are Your niches, where Your Spirit may dwell.

We become the re-Claimed,

in the light we now hold,

not piled tight with rot, but clouds of patina.

We are Your reclaimed, Your beloved,

Your threads, Your love,

as the one pierced and broken

re-Claims,

mends, tears the veil

and

sheds the splintering void

As Your light swells and pushes out all the darkness

We become

Your claimed rampart on the hill.

A stone embedded in Your everlasting story,

upheld in Your song.