if prayer were a white-winged bird, O Lord

I’d fly to where the world’s weary woes

clammer and clang no more

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to where cruel voices can’t chant

their chorus of aches and pains and weatherbeaten bones

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I’d fly wild down mountain slopes

darting through paddocks and river beds dry

fleeing fears and foes and fools

unhindered in silence pure, windswept in solitude’s glory

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if prayer were a white-winged bird, O Lord

I’d fly to where warm winds and cottonwool clouds

whisper fine words of hope and wholeness

murmurings of peace, patiently waiting

rumours of white joy wrapped in roses

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if prayer were a white-winged bird, O Lord

you’d have to watch me fly!

the front-row seats are all yours –

so catch me if you can, O white-winged Spirit of God

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amen

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