Meditation on Top of a Cleft Rock

Sitting on a cushion of crisp leaves
In the company of barren trees,
Fresh, clean air filling my lungs,
Seeps to every capillary of my being.

Reaching inward, I find pools of water,
A mixture of tears and morning dew.
Water creeps thru the multitudes of cracks,
Rinses over smudges of hurt and shame
Embedded in the walls of my cavern,
Traces of a cleansing within.

I am ready for Christ's light to enter and
Struggle to disassemble the locks I had secured
To foolishly hide my shame in darkness.
The door creaks open slowly.

The sun bursts in;
Warmth flows to every corner,
Transforming my home to a palace
Where Christ can light His eternal fire
To shine on all the world.

Set before me is the task
To faithfully kindle this fire
So it may consume my entire self
And fill my depths with His gift
Of living water.

by Julie St. John    fall of 1986