I will not move until the wind blows,
reduced as I am to a lifeless sheet,
pulled in and fastened
to lanyards.
And yet the crucified fabric
could not be fuller
of the life of Life;
I will not move unless the wind blows…
…not a strong-man-boast
but a terrible baptism
into ‘the Son can do nothing’
until the wind blows
bringing the orchestra of glory,
stanchions singing with
music blown in from above.
Now we move. Amen.