Let me catch the flame
Golden, glittering, glaring
So my fingers may glow as I hold the pen
Let me taste the wine
Sweet, smooth, sumptuous
So my speech may be seasoned when I tell the tale
Let me smooth the cloth
Crumpled, crude, queer-colored,
So beauty and grace may greet each eye
Let me weave with thread
Silver, star-lit, spider-spun
So my words may flow like a moon-kissed stream
Let me glimpse the ghosts
Fast-footed, fair-faced, fleeting
So my blessing may reach them as eyes meet eyes
Let me climb the chain
Twinkling, taught, tenacious
That connects the present with the haunted past
Let my arrow fly
Straight-shot, shimmering, shocking
To cleave each heart for the sake of truth
Let my harp strings sound
Merry, moaning, murmuring
So all may partake in the moods of life
Let me feel the drum
Pulsing, pounding, puncturing
So my voice may serve as a battle-horn
Let my cry be heard
Ringing, roaring, raging
Above the din of battle and through the soul
Let me harvest jewels
Unicorn-horns, sword-hilts, Christ’s hem
And lay them out in story and song
Let it so be done
Soulfully, sacrificially, sanctifyingly
So that life may infuse death-darkened eyes