Insomnia

What if morning breaks open before I find rest?

What if all of the stars leave my skies?
What if I can't be more than this nothing my best?
What if sleep never touches my eyes?

What if all that I do gets me naught in the end?
What if God never hears when I call?
What if everyone breaks because I couldn't bend?
What if no one is there when I fall?

What if all my security rests on a proof?
What if proof is a thing that's not given?
What if nobody lowers me down through the roof?
What if none of my sins are forgiven?

What if nothing I do can bring peace to my heart?
What if there is no end to my fear?
What if all my tomorrows are doomed from the start?
What if even then you are still near?

Tacuina sanitatis (XIV century) 3-aspetti di vita quotidiana, insonnia, Taccuino Sanitatis, By unknown master – book scan, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1638868

How Will It Be?

Which is easier, to say to the paralytic,
‘Your sins are forgiven,’
or to say, ‘Rise, pick up your mat and walk’?
But that you may know
that the Son of Man has authority to forgive sins on earth”
–he said to the paralytic,
“I say to you, rise, pick up your mat, and go home.”
He rose, picked up his mat at once, 
and went away in the sight of everyone.

Mark 2:1-12
How will it be when healing comes,
O Christ who came to save?
What can you do with those who jump
alive into their graves?

What, will you lift us from the earth,
or give us strength to rise?
Or spit your grace into the dirt
and smear mud on our eyes?

You'll gently tug it from our grip
when we cling to your robe,
or turn and strike us on the hip
when we will not let go.

Just drag your shadow over us,
who lie here at your feet,
or write your mercy in the dust
'til our accusers flee.

You could just say our sins are gone,
but we would lie here still
who know too well what we have done,
the measure of our guilt.

And so you say, “Get up and walk,”
to show us you forgive.
The prison doors at last unlock,
and we can rise and live.
Jesus heals the paralytic at Capernaum (Galway City Museum, Ireland) By Sheila1988 – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=88909829 WWL

Song of the Paralytic

 Oh, Lord, I cannot come to you;
 I cannot even move,
 but if the things I hear are true,
 God's promise you will prove.
 You shall our stony hearts renew,
 our ancient sins remove.
 My brothers cannot bring me through,
 but bear me to the roof.

I cannot walk the way alone,
 or even lift my hands,
 nor for my sins can I atone
 or strive to make amends.
 They bear me over stock and stone,
 my faithful kin and friends;
 they break a way into your home
 where my salvation stands.
  
 Oh, my Messiah drawing near,
 their faith and hands are strong
 who laid me at your mercy here,
 and they have trusted long.
 The blind will see; the deaf will hear;
 the muted tongue will talk;
 our sinful souls will be washed clear;
 and I will rise and walk.
  
 You lift your eyes and see their faith
 and say I am forgiv'n,
 that here with you my soul is safe,
 my heart has found its heav'n.
 I draw my grateful, shaking breath,
 and one more gift you give:
 I rise and walk away from death,
 and in your grace I live. 
Jesus heals the paralytic at Capernaum (Galway City Museum, Ireland) Photo By Sheila1988 – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=88909829 WWL