Mountain to Mountain

mountain to mountain

Leave Sinai for Zion.
Drop the law at the foot of the mountain
And burst into My banquet hall set with a feast.

No longer cover your face,
No longer glimpse the back of Me –
But instead find My eyes with yours
And let Me hold your hands once more.
Let Me wash you of your ashes,
Let Me exchange your fig leaves for a body free of shame again.

Walk with Me.

Tell Me again of your heart’s deepest desire
And let Me fulfill it.
For I will again be your Mother Hen –
in My wings you are safe.
I will again be your Shepherd –
I have never stopped searching for you.
I will again be your God,
Always Yahweh, always Emmanuel.

And you with your new name –
The name I gave you long ago,
The name you’ve been searching for,
The name that seals your wholeness.

You are complete again.

You have found Me waiting in Eden’s gardens
And I have closed the pits within you
And I have emptied your soul of demons
And I have done what I promised.

Sit next to Me and tell your Abba again all the stories of your life.
You have My ear forevermore.

Galaxy Rest

galaxy rest


Go before me, like a forest dweller with a machete –
Carve a way in the wild.
Make a path for me in the brush of the shadow-life,

And when we reach the flower field on the other side,
Teach me the freedom of dropping the blade
and forgetting the battle.

Teach me to rest among the dandelions,
To fall asleep easy under the blue black
dotted with the light of galaxies that never burn out.

A Revelation Psalm

A Revelation Psalm by Courtney Raymond

When I found myself in the last moment –
The last battle,
that deeper place, my real country –
Standing on the other side of the door to my life –
I was, at last, ready to receive the name
You reserved for me.

All at once the Hen who took me under Her wing
and the Rider atop His steed,
You stood before me.

In the silence and the magnitude of
joyous stillness,
I was knighted.

And I finally knew who I was
The way I had known all along
Deep in my heart and soul and the rest
of the hidden depths inside me –
I knew who I was but it was more than I
ever could have imagined.

Standing in my new knighthood,
Priestess among the priesthood –
the questions of a life already lived flowed from me.

How have You called me the name I have
longed for
my whole life
When not even I knew what it was I
How have You known me so well,
And how have I known myself so little?
When did you see the furthest reaches of my soul –
Where was I looking when you set an expedition
into the wastelands of my heart
And found among the brambles the
hidden treasure trove buried there?

Yet there I was,
and am.
Once-hidden manna clutched in my once-wanting hand.

Here I am, standing in all the glory I
never knew possible,
And You want me.
And there I was, standing in the scorched-earth desert –
And You wanted me then, too.

After all this time searching for my title,
my heart,
my self –
You had it all along
Waiting for me to claim it.

Revelation 2:17

Questionable Magic

questionable magic

I can decide who I am.
And I can decide who I am not.
But I can’t decide who others think I am.

And that is a difficult part of life.
Because who I am to myself and who I am
to everyone else
is rarely the same person.

And how does that make sense?
How is one person
in the face of the whole world?

This is no swan song pronouncement.
This is the point of all my songs:
How do I decide who I am when
every person in the world is telling me something

How do I decide who I am not
when the very fibers of my heart
spin outward,
opposite heartstrings
tugging east and west,
driving me toward sun and moon and stars?

Because this is the story I thought I would’ve told by now.
That girl, fourteen,
discovering that her voice makes other people feel things –

That girl made a decision to bear her soul
to a world that called her
too many names.
She decided that who she was
was a poet and a thinker.
A storyteller
and a magician;
a weaver of invisible abstractions,
of threads too thin for others to slip through a needle.

She made a decision to start a tapestry
that even she couldn’t imagine.

And I think she discovered,
year after year,
poem after poem,
night after night of spinning thoughts into words
and words into stories
and stories into golden patchwork quilts fit for queens and paupers –

I think she discovered that she still never got a grasp on her own soul.
And maybe that she never would.
And maybe that she never wanted to.

Every moment spent trying to be somebody
for somebody else,
till she was telling the stories so loudly and so boldly that
she lost herself.

realizing it.

Is that how it happens?
Do you become the person you are
without deciding to become the person
you are?
Is that how it was supposed to happen?

Do we write ourselves into our own stories?

Do I let every poem end unresolved
because mysteries are all that girl ever knew how to write?

She was a poet and a magician.

She thought so.

Did I make a decision
to make myself
to my self?



And I know that He promised me.
He promised when He told me
whether I walk to the right or to the left,
my foot would fall in the light.
He promised me wholeness and beauty
and He promised me adventure,
whether it was scripted in the Good Book or not –
between the lines, I know there was an adventure there.
He wouldn’t have made the promises otherwise.

We needed those promises.
I needed them –
Right or left, I would find the Light.
He knew it would be hard for me to trust.
Because I am in a bright room now,
and the lights here are predictable:
On for twelve hours,
off for twelve hours.
Like a clock and like the sunshine –
I can predict this, I know where I am at, I can

So now the bulbs here in this space are dying out
And I must go searching for new ones
And that is terrifying
And that is exhilarating
And that is

He promised me that I would be in the Light.
Stumble into the Light
Run into the Light
Fall into the Light
Hurtle into the Light
Blaze into the Light
Melt into the Light
Jump into the Light
Back into the Light
Creep into the Light

into the Light.

He promised me Light.