Written by Rani Kaye on February 22, 1988:
More than a year without a poem
… and they used to come every day!
Oh, they still do, but I don’t write them down
I just sing them, then they drift away.
(Somebody’s Journal records all the rhymes
… and notes all the harmonies playing behind.
And He loves an old song
… and He loves a new song
… and He loves diversity, comedy, and hue!)
And I love to sing them
… and I love to bring them
On altars of frailty,
Transformed by His holiness,
Made fit for His view.
And He hears my every prayer!
Those spoken … those breathed unaware.
Before and behind my life:
Yhwh ever there!
Reigning, although unseen
The comedy of God has been
A servant on horseback
And a king on his feet!
A maid who’s her mistress’ heir
(Whom Mary and Sarah bare)
And Oh! How the earth will move!
When the Servant is King!
— Poem by Rani Kaye, all rights reserved