Perichoresis

How to be still

And yet to move

Feet and hands and voice

Not lost but found

Entwined with Anothers

How to give

And yet receive

To breathe mountains

And fill valleys.

Is the way straight and wide?

Or do I dangle in orbit

Hopelessly outmatched

Before the luminous Son?

How to feel with phantom limbs

Cut off since that first forbidden fruit,

To press God-sized fingers in the clay,

Feel the music carry me away

Only to find that I’ve been away this whole time

And these are the arms of the Prodigal Father.