Oh dear, precious, absent Grace,
where are you hiding these days?
You’ve been run out of religion
by their sanctimonious judgment,
and this world, rigging games,
says you’re too green to survive;
weeds of greed, thorny with exploitation,
will quickly reap you naked
until you die.
(And that’s no lie.)
Must we declare an Amber Alert,
dear, precious Grace,
and also for Mercy, Love, and Peace?
Lost, we seek saviors from the sky
filled with clouds rolling thunder,
blinded to the hell we let reign down,
bruising the ground
and pummeling the weak.
(And the meek.)
Please show us yourself, dear, precious Grace,
you are so much more than simply missed.
Your existence is necessary
for the preserving of humanity’s
life everlasting
because of your promise in God’s loving Kiss,
raising us from mere animality
to authentic spiritual witness.
(And it’s worth the risk.)
If you are hiding in us, Grace,
here asleep on the ground,
come out, come out, wherever you are,
break free your chrysalis,
fly to us,
wake us,
and be found.
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