The Code

By Feb

Feb ministers to the incarcerated through her study and practice of what she calls "peacemaking language development". She devotes herself to learning from the marginalized and the oppressed to support and challenge the needs of people in leadership or community/team building. A Christ-awareness enthusiast, she finds the deepest joys in incorporating biblical accounts into interdisciplinary and personal training/development. Her two (probably) most potent sources of inspiration are poetry and children.

You've been my ally since childhood
Served me well when I needed to please stones
Gave me an edge to draw and cut men's bones
Made me visible after colonized stillness
Formed my grit in pain
Crushed my image to dust
Kissed me to chase away the cold
Freezed my lukewarm heart for a wounded other

But now I am neither lukewarm, nor hot or cold
I am all three in one
The trees around me I now see are people
Wiser than men, they are children.
Far from being stones, they sing praises like birds for proof of hearing.
Eternity resounds in their hearts of flesh.
So as helpful as you have been, I have a little less use of you in this glaring light.

In front of these leaves hanging and swaying
Around the peach structure made by man,
There is one who was, who is and is to come.
Fully man, fully God.
A carpenter capable of tearing down and rebuilding
Both that peach structure and this green tree.

I await him, yet I have no need to
He is here, still he's coming
He was here, and lives again
I wonder if he'll stand less than inch away from where I sit, 
When he comes again and makes all things new.
Will the city of gold have any resemblence to the peach structure and the hanging leaves?
Will my eyes read the code well
When words fail to tell again of His sacrifice
For the child in me?