God Stuck Her Tongue Out

God stuck her tongue out at the church

and we grabbed hold of the budded thing

and started flapping it around the neighborhood

like a swimming pool noodle or downy pillow

and before we knew it we were speaking things

we never bothered to dream or wonder

held our tight lips taught when we ever felt them

and yet there they were waggling out:

welcome, stranger, into the fold of mercy

now you are called brother, sister, friend

gather round, immigrants, we speak your language,

no one will shun your accent or poverty here

dance your way through the door, lost ones

and teach us your wild moves and we will teach ours

stroll in you wounded souls and skins

and let us wrap and kiss your pain to healing

make room, settled ones, for the wave is surging

and it will unsettle your closed-mouth silence

nothing, not even our provincial proclivities

can stop these mouths from sputtering

words of grace that blow open any door

any wall any blue law Sunday limitations

on what Spirit can do when set free to

tousle the world’s hair

until love has swept us all away