Theophany Poem

I THIRST
How is it that my Creator comes to me?
I’m not worthy.
To quench is my fate.
THIRST
All can relate.
Before Eden thou wast; even before the flood.
I parted for Thy people at the behest of Moses, Thy chosen one.
I’ve whetted e’ery path man’s trod; every field he’s plo’d.
At Thy command I came to be; my rest shall be in Thee.
Tell me Lord, what brings Thee to me? I’m not worthy,
I must confess.
Me? I cleanse from sweat, dirt, sand, and disease.
Washed away are cares and burdens — the soot of the day —
in my waves.
John calls forth the people.
In their salvation I participate.
Yet, to Thee, how can I relate?
For without, I’d not be.
Jest it seems!
(Agent of cleansing feels dirty in the presence of the King.)
Cleanse me, O Lord, that I may be worthy of Thee.
THIRST
I am water.
I lack nothing but Thee.
At Thy baptism, O Lord, Thou hast found me worthy.
Quenching, cleansing:
paths, fields, people,
salvation;
I
shall ne’er be the same.

Come Lord Jesus,
cleanse Thou me!

Published in 2005 on the Antiochian Webpage & in the January 2006 Messenger, St George, Houston.