Hymn on a Day of Rain

Where is the fire, Father,

that burned in my heart

those days past?

You do not change,

you did not put it out,

but still it did not last.

Was it the clouds of grey,

the uncertain sense of a storm

that put the fire out?

No longer black and white,

            the skyline’s dim and hazy,

expressing all my doubt.

It’s raining everywhere now;

            the whole world weeps,

            and I cry to feel again.

I know that water cleanses,

            showers bring new life;

            but first comes the pain.

My tears touch my face with salt;

            I wonder if I have to weep

            to find the flavor in my soul.

Must passion equate with suffering,

            can there be no other cup?

            Surely trial is life’s great toll.

Is not fire the greatest passion,

            do not flames also purify?

            Then, Abba, set me ablaze!

You created me a fire-water,

            always at war with myself;

            teach me harmony as I praise.

You called me to be a light,

            so I stare into the dark

and I am too afraid.

But “it is you who light my lamp;

            the Lord my God lightens my darkness”

            so, Father, come to your daughter’s aid!

Start your holy fire in my heart,

            flood my soul with lucid grace;

let me reflect your light’s beam.

I give you my fears and burdens

            in exchange for your free joy;

Father, you are my new dream!

"Express yourself," they said. So I wrote a poem.

 I am.

The golden-haired child

who dances on her father’s feet,

barefoot, foot-loose and free,

abandoned to her wild joy.

The girl who climbs trees

to see what the world looks like,

who runs in the wind and rain

just to feel she is alive again.

The teenager who is held captive

by her mind and its invention,

who rides to freedom on a horse

whom she loves more than life.

The young woman who loves

but doesn’t know the direction

or the object, only the passion

for something more than this.

The adult, given great freedom

and so also great responsibility,

who loves to read, write, think,

and comes to college to learn how.

The daughter who is grown up,

but will always be Daddy’s girl

and, in her mind, heart and soul,

will always have a Father.

I am His.