I will take you
in this raising up;

take your bruises,
your frail and fragile

self. It is mine. I
will carry you on

clouds and this
salt air to grace.

amid the whispering
of unseen hosts

we will join together
the fastness of these hills

become the river
that slowly wends about

the golden city. we
will bend and sway

among the fields of
sweet grass and wheat

and we will be the song
of many fair breezes.

I will raise you up,
wreathe your longing

hearts with fullness, and
we will be a flame

to light the throne
where love awaits.

you are mine, and
I am yours, and we

will thrill at our becoming.
everything that hurts,

all that seems lost,
will be made beloved

by the One who calls
us homeward, eagerly.

© 2016 Karekin Yarian