Says the Lord, Now will I be exalted in your midst.
Do I not already, rise mist-crowned at the dawning?
My sun-righteousness takes flight, healing on the wing.

Why all this commotion, the chariots and their riders?
Because when I rise, you rise, and the Spirit quickens.
Sickness, be gone! And sorrow, away with you.
This has been my constant reason.


March 21, 2014 — Alexandra Hunter
Tags: poetry