Epitaph

It's Morning, Jesus

If I am not silent this morning, Lord
Who will be?

The mother sitting up with coughing child?
The street sweeper pushing against ice and snow in furious race

with rising sun and morning traffic?

If I am not still before you, Lord
Who will be?
The airplane pilot who races to the coast

with a hundred passengers?
The stock broker who wakes to see

the cost of oil in China?

If I do not enter solitude with you, Lord, who will?
The Father who rises to catch the downtown commute
And rides the clattering track with newspaper rattlers?

Shall the dead in graveyards be the only still ones

before you this morning?
Shall the deaf and blind,

the crippled and old

be the only one’s bringing offerings of
stillness and quietude?

No.
Today I will carve out a place

in busy, healthy time
To give you glory.

You are the spiritual commerce I first seek
You are the first exercise of able mind and body
To you I give heart and soul and mind
While they are fresh and somewhat young

All else can wait.
I wait in strength
Before you.