The great Becoming
.
How small we made you.
How constrained by our constraints;
We wore you like a lapel badge,
Pocketed you like a personal passport, then
Raised you at our border like a flag.
We locked you in the pages of
Our Book, then threw away the key.
.
But how we worshipped you.
How we pointed at you with steeples.
You asked us to follow you, to
Give away our second shirts, but instead
We made a million icons, each one framed in gold.
We swayed and raised our egos, singing love songs-
Not to you, but to idealised versions of ourselves.
.
How is it that still, you love things by becoming them?
How was it that this brown-skinned man with the heart of a woman
Took upon herself another name for everything, so we could
Encounter her in all these beautiful things and bleed with her when she
Lies broken? And just when all seems lost, she whispers still;
See, I am making all things new.
Even you.
this fragile tent 
Fantastic stuff Chris. This is brilliant. Particularly struck by what you say in the last paragraph. It makes me think of Mary and the Incarnation. ‘Lo he abhors not the virgin’s womb’ has long felt like a strange thing to sing but this makes sense of it. The Word became flesh and dwelt among us – inside us women, even (!). That’s always quite incredible.
HI Rachel, I confess that the two punchiest sentences in that poem were pinched from Richard Rohrs amazing book ‘The Universal Christ’- if you havn’t read it I really recommend it. I love the generousness of the vision he describes and am also doing be best ( as a white male!) to come to a better understandfing of the feminine nature of God. Thanks for the encouragement! X