There’s a thirsty dream inside me
for a hopeful little local gathering of hearts,
a healthy community of imperfect people
who share their stories and songs and the open road
slow and simple and organic.
No rushes; no rallies,
just a tribe of traveling companions
with skin for hugging
and differences to discover
and journeys to celebrate and share,
held safe by gentle hearts and hands.
Kind of a church for wild things,
an expansive place where my heart can find rest
and togethering that doesn’t drive me,
leaving plenty of space inside and out
to worship free and uncluttered
with a tribe that helps encourage and stir the grace in each soul
for our own missions and muchness.
In a wide open field brushed by breeze,
safe for knowing and being known.
No hype, no manipulation,
only sweet sanctuary,
a healing tide.
I wish it out loud to the worker of wonders,
say it strong and without apology
to the one who drags the bottom of my disappointment
and breathes fresh audacity
right back into my hope.