The text for today,
the speaker started off,
and I reached for my cellphone
before I realized
he was talking about
a much older message
received thousands of years ago;
“The Valley of Dry Bones”.

I read that text
during the great Easter Vigil
this year.
It seems as if lot of old texts
have been reaching out to me
grabbing me,
recently.

It’s like I’ve been hearing voices;
not the kind they treat you for,
at the behavioral health clinic,
but the ageless voice
that Isaiah and Ezekiel heard.

“These bones are the people of Israel”
These bones are my bones,
that have been dried up
for decades.

Lord, breathe on me.

These bones are the dying mainstream churches of America
in maintenance mode
that needs to stop waiting
for the crowds to cross
the narthex
whatever that is
and instead,
head out
to the laundromat.

“Can these bones live?”
Perhaps, if someone will prophesy,
but who will sing
the Lord’s song
in a strange land.

“Here I am Lord,
Send me.”