A sulfuric fire smolders in your flesh
as you stand paralyzed in the doorway.
My pitiful child!—
Out of Egypt I have called you.
Untie these rough, heavy ropes
with which you have enslaved yourself.
Cross the Jordan, and I will give you rest.
Now your coals smoke and hiss
as the Jordan water dries and the sun shrivels you.
My hungry one—
Man does not live by bread alone.
The manna has stopped; I feed you with My Word.
Let your tears flow; be emptied,
as I secretly break the strings that tether you.
Now I give you My eyes, with their light,
to see into man’s heart and love him.
O radiant one!—
Stand up and walk!
Though your old clothes have worn away
and your hair is white as snow,
I have clothed your shame with glory.
Now the man touches your lips with the burning coal—
it slips within and engulfs you completely.
O My Ark!—
Cross the Jordan, and I will give you rest.
The last worn thread is severed,
and though none but a lion roams this land,
your body, all aflame, I will protect and take to Myself.
This is so beautiful & moving, Mother Cecilia - thank you!
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