Tugging at the darkness, word upon word

Dreaming of Mercy Street...

i've been listening to peter gabriel today as a companion to the rain.

briefly i thought about when i gave you that book of anne sexton's poetry and wondered if you read it anymore.

In my dream,
drilling into the marrow
of my entire bone,
my real dream,
I'm walking up and down Beacon Hill
searching for a street sign --
namely MERCY STREET.
Not there.

what a memory to have on such a day. sometimes i wish that my nostalgia would just go away and then i instantly regret that wish. my soul becomes confused and the seams still unravel.

this weekend i saw something amazing. i saw the things that i think God really intends for us to see. i saw about 200 people come together to raise money for Grace House. 200 people walked downtown to the tune of about $10,000.

miracles happen every day.

then i saw twice that many people come together saturday night to celebrate diversity and love in every form. music carried us through and the energy knew no bounds. i feel renewed.

and I am walking and looking
and this is no dream
just my oily life
where the people are alibis
and the street is unfindable
for an entire lifetime.

is the street unfindable? i don't believe that. not for me. the vision might be blurry, but it's not completely gone. my heart overflows with need to seek it out.

i'm ready.
i'm ready.

Mercy, mercy, looking for mercy