groaning into holiness

i am a bruised vessel

empty and cracked

waiting to be patched

peering into clouds

searching for a scoop

groaning into holiness

born of the worn earth

in life a field of cautions

setting out, stiff of heart

an uptight preacher of the Word

the irony borne on crumpled bones

asleep in hope

beneath a wreckage of doubts

what am i to say to the weary-worn

forlorn of heart with thirsting souls

but that we encircle the table and have a drink

partake of bread

affirm our common bond