Charlotte
Ostermann, Advent 2006
Distant,
we hear the call
Each
from a different walk
Ent’ring by diverse doors
The
Womb, the
Beckoned,
to become one
Drawn to the Risen Son.
Silenced
by standing space
Unity
forms this place
Empty words left behind
Speaking
of a different kind
Creation
here reversed
Words
by Word reimbursed.
In-breath
of organic air
Pulse
of a union rare
Movement
from this Holy Ground
Soon
from all hearts resounds
Solved
in a perfect chord
Healed
and the wound restored.
Out
in a joyous flood
Carried
on a wave of blood
Mercy
in its ebbing tide
Spent
from His sword-pierced side
No
drop is lost, none is vain
Dried, we return as rain.