Fresh Butterfly Milk

These are the warning signs of a visceral God at work:

 The repressed hands become tender and forgiving once again,

The calloused eyes begin to see the wonder of a thousand newborn suns,

The chained heart learns to leap at the thought of angels and popsicles.

The uncluttered soul laps at a dish of fresh butterfly milk.

These are the early signs of a loving Christ at work:

 We feel the cross above us, not scraping our tortured backs-

We feel the love around us, not reserved for perfect Patricians-

We touch the robe within us, not fearing the Roman guards-

We can embrace the Author, and break bread with the Finisher.

These arrows mean nothing, these words mean nothing, these jokes mean nothing,

These looks mean nothing, these slurs mean nothing, these judgements mean nothing,

These thoughts mean nothing, these people mean nothing, these laughs mean nothing,

Your life means something, your love means something,

your faith means something,

Your friends mean something, your gifts mean something,

your compassion means something,

Your strength means something, your patience means something,

you mean something...

Pax vobiscum.