Clawing the Frayed Edges

A Pentecost Poem

Fresco from Karlskirche, Vienna (via Wikipedia)

Luke says the Spirit descends with fire
And men filled with the Spirit speak in tongues.

John says Jesus breathed out the same Spirit
On disciples huddled in fear and shame.

And what I feel when the Spirit comes down
Is more like a swelling, holy silence—

Something like Isaiah and burning coals
Stopping my words, quelling my certainties,

Filling me not with bold proclamations,
But laments, questions, and anguished groanings—

That stirs radical longing for a world
Bright shining behind torn temple curtains,

True religion clawing the frayed edges
Of every disjointed reality.