By Kerry Greenhill © 2017
The kingdom of heaven
is like an old library,
smelling of paper and wood and dust
polished by fingers and feet
hallowed by wonder and doubt
full of poems, stories, certainties, questions
that connect us to sages and ages past.
The Kin’dom of heaven
is like a shiny new Instant Pot,
converting words into meals,
milk into yogurt, frozen into food,
hungry into community.
The reign of God
is like a patchwork quilt,
shape and color and texture and pattern
chosen and cut
pressed and stitched,
scraps become beauty and warmth
and enfolding love.
The commonwealth of glory
is like finding diamonds in your backyard,
opals in the parking lot,
gold flakes in the roadside ditch:
something more captivating than useful,
precious and unexpected,
The in-breaking of Shalom
is like a field of dandelions,
sunny faces springing up,
then closing to reopen
with a hundred thousand fairy seeds,
wishes dancing on the breeze,
spreading wild resilient hope
in vacant lots and manicured suburbs,
sidewalk cracks and highway embankments,
never caring where the boundaries are drawn,
never listening when they are called weeds.
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