The Ancient Paths (Jeremiah 6.16)

Cupped behind my breath
as I labour through my days
is a pause
that feels like an interruption
until I let its slow measure
wash in like a wave.

It is He,
untied to time,
treading the seas of patience
with feet of love.

I deepbreathe the fresh air
and hurry on,
a pebble sucked back by the sea,
a shadow run far from the sun.

I feel alone.

One day I find
the stillness to stop
and hear
the voice beneath words.

And the finger that I thought would be pointed
at me
shows instead a way through the woods
that I can find if I look,
that I can choose if I want to
ask.

It is an ancient path
bringing memories of home and sweet milk and
first love and
shelter.
It is a path my feet
remember.

I search for the name of the
good way
thinking to find a sign saying ‘righteousness’,
a placard saying ‘holy’.

But all I find
under the moss at my feet
is a heart
scratched in stone when I first was in love
with His name in the middle,
the name of
God.

And is this it,
all that the master of the Universe wants,
my love?

My love has grown silent and stale
from wasted years,
my love has wandered
and been seduced by treats and toys,
by new passions and ploys
and all the time
it was the ancient paths
that would bring me home.

I am come.

I am come
with a heart healed by the extravagance
of His love,
with a smile in my body
and a skip in my step,
I am come
to hold hands with my Beloved,
to drink in His presence
and dance in His way,
to pledge Him my promise
and carry His name,
I am come.