I accuse the gust,
the breath that feels so cruel on my neck.
feeling the pain in each muscle,
I cry, scream, and weep.
‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ (Matthew 25:46b NRSV)
Finally, sitting on wall’s edge,
I peer down at the waters below.
The very breath of God,
sweeps across its surface,
From the risky rocks,
I get a glimpse of the sacred directors’ movements,
May I trust the breath that gently encourages us,
to choose the choreography of love,
even when we feel but one inexplicable gust.