Sunflowers

i long to be
a candle, flickering in the dark
settled in the shadowed corner
a servant of
the God of the Dark Places
the God of raves and tattoo parlors;
of bar stools and smoke-filled back rooms


i long to be
a flame, fanned by the whispers
of the dark of night
an expression of one
who made beauty out of blood,
Redemption out of Death;
who spoke into the dark to create


i long to be
the salve on the self-inflicted wound
soothing the need for pain
a remnant of one
from which beauty creeps
infusing the broken and bleeding,
defiling the Sabboth with healing


i ache to be
the tool of a heartbroken God
whose tired sighs call me to action
a weeping Christ
who looks into the tomb
and grieves while he heals,
who honors our struggles with tears


i ache to be
an expression of love
for one whose being is love
a flickering flame
for the desperate and damaged,
the addicted and abandoned;
the ones who are just like me


i long to belong
to the God of the Dark Places