When someone ceases
    to know the difference
        between doing and not doing,
            that is when our Lord steps in.

When someone ceases to see
    the "right" and the "wrong,"
        the "right" and the "wrong,"
            and begins to simply "be" the right,
                that is when the potter's vessel
                    holds the waters of life.

The vessel with a spout
    never thinks of being poured.

Formed and fired by the potter
    for his use,
        it yields in his hands
            as if still clay.

The waters of life pour forth,
    full force,
        the vessel,
            now a thing of beauty.

^©Sharon Terry
1993

Surrender

I want to be near you,
    to touch you,
    to hold you close.

It is okay,
    really,
    for me to feel this way.

It is a longing,
    a desire so deep
    as to be inexpressible.

I let go with you,
    I crumble,
    I weep,
    I mourn the time I've lost.
I do not know how to understand.
It is beyond my experience.
I long for what I do not know.
I flee from its presence,
    yet ask to be made whole-
    by your touch.

I only want to take what is mine.
You give
    so freely-
    a well, overflowing its rim.

I stand,
    waters flowing 'round my feet.
I am confused,
    not knowing what
    to do to catch the flow.

Is it not for catching,
    for drinking?
Is it for bathing,
    for full immersion of my soul?

I fall, knees first,
    into the sweet smelling water,
    scented with roses and violets and love.
With hands cupped,
    I splash its fragrance
    all about me, elbow deep.
Slowly, I am enveloped.
I surrender to the depths, knowing
    I will be lifted up from within.

And I am.

^©Sharon Terry
1994

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Holy Yours

Tide water covers my head,
Making me holy yours, oh God.
I count not my blessings in solitude,

For I must make witness to the fact
That I will see God face to face.

^©Sharon Terry
1996

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I called today on the telephone,
Cindy, how are you?

I am an unsettled misfit.
Please tell me God,
Where is my place in your plan?

It was on a Wednesday,
I stared into your face,
Losing myself in questions,
When slowly my gaze fell
Below to your foot beneath your robe.

Please take a step, I heard you say.

Please show me a sign.

Signs I have shown. You do not hear.
Listen and be inclined.

You are the wick.
You burn the flame.
You cannot see its glow.
You draw the wax, the energy,
And are consumed
By what your eyes do not behold
Nor heart can tell.

You are the wick.
You burn the flame.
You cannot see its glow.

Cindy, I see your glow.

No, wait, I cannot yet receive
Within my heart, your sight.

And may never,
Nor have need,
For wick does find
No ego to sustain.

You are the wick.
You burn the flame.
You cannot see its glow.

^©2000 Sharon Terry

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Longing turns to wishes
Wishes turn to dust
What once was prized as value
Now only seems as lust

Lust for self expression
Lust for life and love
Lust to find the reason
I came from above.

Where Creator made me
Whole and pure within
Then life's pictures sharpened
Sin became my kin

Then the heavens opened
Opened from above
Christ was sent from heaven
Filled with heaven's love

Troubled there I found him
Kneeling at his cross
Lift the burden from me
Cleanse me from all dross

Lust for self expression
Lust for life and love
Lust to find the reason
I came from above

Am I all that different
From my Savior's heart
Lust for life love reason
Central to his part

Out of dust comes wishes
Out of wishes passion
Make within me reason
After your heart fashion

Lust for self expression
Lust for life and love
Lust to find the reason
I came from above

^©Sharon Terry
2000