Kitchen in the Clouds

This past Sunday Christians around the world celebrated Pentecost – the coming of the Holy Spirit to dwell with and in human beings, as recounted in Acts 2.

In the context of all of the recent and ongoing uprisings across the US – and with thanks to my pastor Lina Thompson for teaching that the Holy Spirit is the spirit who moves toward justice – this is how I’m imagining the Holy Spirit these days:

Kitchen in the Clouds

In her kitchen in the clouds
she cooks a feast, 
mise en place,
she takes cutting boards 

and places on them 
every form of dominance, 
chops heaping bowls of
white supremacy, of

patriarchy, homophobia,
chef’s knife in hand, 
decisive, she chops 
loudly and does not hold back.

With expert touch she cuts 
police brutality, slices 
corrupt healthcare systems,
then takes racist rhetoric

and throws it on the fire
where it will burn and burn
and burn. She takes it all 
and fries it up, destroyed, 

burned up, turned into
something new,
unrecognizable:
she serves justice on a platter.

Her touch is power, 
all the power to all the people, 
her stove’s sparks illumine truth
and invite all to draw near:

she takes and throws 
upon the open flame 
indifference to black life,
callousness toward immigrants,

sticks skewers through misogyny
and grills it up.
She soaks love for hours 
like beans until it swells 

and softens and is ripe to eat.
Then she sets the table 
for her feast, no seats 
of honor, all are equals, 

so much room for all
who hunger for a place
of many mountains fallen down.

In her kitchen in the clouds
she stops and hovers, 
waiting, unsure who will come
to share in what she cooks,

the table set, 
the feast all served.
The guests begin
to straggle in:

the weary, haggard, 
lonely, scarred,
the prophets and the protesters,
the ones contending 

for a better world
and not content,
the desperate ones,
the angry ones,

the migrants and the refugees,
the lovers and the fighters,
the ones imprisoned and detained,
the ones cut down before their time.

For all who stomach what she cooks
this meal is peace at long,
long last.

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