Woven

Both and.

This band,
this weaving of a beautiful-wretched way of life,
and strife.  Here,
there, stretched bare
between the tensions
on this loom of a two-worlds life.

I find myself tamped down

switched around.
Threads dangling in the wrangling
of a secure design
assigned by unseen Hands.

Both and.

Both joy and muddle
in the rhythm of the shuttle
and the shuffle
of friends dying far away.
Again.
Again.


But.

News of new babies
and Thai ladies
and sunshine in the bleak month
of November.
Bai teo to a holy place
reminding me of undeserved grace
even in this stretched out place
of grim realities.

So I surrender in November,
this piece of my humanity -
and the insanity of wishing I could be present in the
both and.
Here and there.

Because God is.
Here and there.

And in this both and
I can rest in knowing
He's showing Himself
in brilliant pieces of tapestry.
A mastery of peace.