Tomorrow we can Go Tell it On the Mountain
Inhale the preciousness of this time
Inhale the waiting and even the aching of the waiting
Exhale all the toxin you’ve been building up and inhale clean fresh air
So that what you sing, what you proclaim, is holy.
Breathe in the first breath of unafraid air you’ve had in too long.
Inhale the realization that you were strong enough.
Inhale the relationships that held.
Inhale the righteousness of your cries.
Inhale the aroma of the pie handed down from your grandmother.
Inhale the incense from the church down the road where you don’t attend.
Inhale the fragrance of the quenched ground.
Inhale the strength you need to keep going.
Inhale the wisdom of the mountain.
Inhale the weathering of the sea.
Inhale so you’ve got something to say when it’s time to step up and proclaim,
And that something is born of flesh and spirit, truth and promise.
That something is born, not made.
That something is vulnerable, but not weak.
That something knows suffering, but believes in redemption.
That something knows death, but practices resurrection.
Tomorrow sing. Tomorrow proclaim. Tomorrow shout!
Tonight, just inhale.