In Velvet

Parched desert swelter
Panting for the cold flow
Hopeless sights in the visible dry
Yet my hooves tread on the
Nosebleed heights
Sand tongue quenched
By impossible streams
Feet cleft like my heart
Drawn to the left and to right
To red clay and cobblestone
Ever in itinerant flight
And in the sprouting of spring
I’m in velvet
With rich tapestry of blood
In His warmth
Sensitized by His spool
Weaving warning in my skin
When I set my suede aside
In scarlet strips
When the days arrange
In orange and amber
I’m unwrapped
wreath-equipped
I rejoice in laying down
The worn ruby skin
Across the lace of leaves strewn
Soft is the brow He anoints
Placing promises foretold
The gardener Spirit
Grows my velvet into gold
A solid crown of glory
Made holy by His mould

Soul always craving
The eternal spring
At His feet
I will drink still
And set the gold garland down
At this stone just and sure
I’ll return such a crown.
Psalm 42
Isaiah 35:6-7
Habakkuk 3:19
Revelation 4:10–11

Seeds of faith

Little moons in a wild field
White worlds of wishes
But I will not see
Pagan pleas as destiny
Not use my proper breath
To command the affections
Of my weak eyes
And wanting lungs
But the wind
Who is Spirit
Will carry my whispers
On His airy path
Take pleasure in my prayer parachutes
The seeds of my faith twirling
Upon Your breathe

I have no words but You

A kaleidoscope of sounds
Ever turning is Your tongue
The One truth fashioned
From eternal lungs
Adorned in a bounty of
Discernable strokes, clicks, ink
Sometimes, a soliloquy
Of silence echoes
Or so we feel
Often it’s the tongue
The reasonable, known,
Widely used
That renders me defeated
The array of technical tones
Inundating the simple
Abacus attic of my mind
But You do not leave us
In cold chaos
In kindness,
You grant all necessary
For your glory
For the whole point
The punctuation
Encompassing every
Near and far utterance.
For even in silence You speak
For what You have spoken stands sure
By truth-shod feet
Spirit breathed to endure
In Your storm of resonance
I find assurance unearthed

In Your warmth of presence
I find eyes of new mirth
Praise praise the Lord deserved
Who makes those called, steadfast
Who richly gives the Word preserved
Bringing new life and joy surpassed.

Arianna Mayo