Flying creatures, bedecked with wings,
their voices ringing, singing, praising,
Quaking the very doorposts with their adulation.
Smoke billows, yet not smothering
the winged choristers of heaven.
Above it all, a mighty figure looms,
the face so high and smoke-obscured
I cannot see its features. Nor can I see
the shoulders, chest, or torso,
hips, thighs, knees are lost in smoke.
Yes, all that I can see of You
within Your very temple
is the falling drapery of Your robe.

For this moment, let my ears be deaf
to all the ecstasies of angels.
Let my mouth, though wide a-gape,
breathe freely in the smoke.
For this moment, let my lips
be numb to absolution’s burn.
For this moment, let the scent
of incense fade from my awareness.
Let me see the flowing hemline of Your robe.
Let me see the skirt of Your robe.

It billows like the smoke.
It flutters like the wings of seraphs.
It sweeps along the flagstones,
cleansing just as surely as
the burning coal upon my lips,
echoing the zephyrs of the mountaintop
as hem and floor caress.

Sweep me, LORD, into the skirt of Your robe,
for a moment, at least, before you ask Your question,
and I, in arrogance and foolishness,
declare that I will leave its soft embrace
and bear your ne’er-to-be-accepted Word
into the world, and to Your people.
You know your people care far more
for power than kindness, greed than grace,
self-righteousness than righteousness.

For just a moment, LORD, embrace me
in the loving softness of Your robe.

A prayer based on Isaiah 6:1-8.

Photo by tommybuddy – https://pixabay.com/en/curtain-red-stage-theater-939464/, CC0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=5924658