Ordinary Time by Mark Nielsen, April 20, 2009
having been used as tools
in the wet soil of a spring garden
waiting to push up its blooms.
having just ended the ashen journey
and a winter of discontent.
Yet it is still a brief time of waiting:
the ending before the beginning.
these barely green branches,
lilac and lilies wait to send their scent–
the soil sighs with relief,
as new life strains to break through.
I, too, am waiting.
Not the joyful wait for the first birth,
but the nervous wait for the second.
I await the Spirit,
and the fireworks flowering
to introduce our Ordinary Time.
I was told by his messenger
just the other day.
“He is going ahead of you.
There you will see him, just as he told you.”
And yet I also remember:
“Stay in the city
until you have been clothed with power.”
This, one of the last things he himself said.
And so I await the colorful clothing
that these my humble sisters in green
will soon put on as a signal to go.
While I wait,
I will make my heart naked–
utterly exposed to the Spirit,
not turning away,
heart now washed of its shame and grief.
For even now,
my glorious traveling clothes are being woven,