I watch your back
Glisten in the sun
Building my church
Laying a strong foundation
For my temple
It is a labor of love

I am waiting now
To teach you my gospel
Did you see my scripture
Ink saturating scrolls
So it is written
So it is done

We are still in the middle
Unfurl me
Tender fern in spring
They are singing our chorus
Beyond the hill
Playing stringed instruments
Fiddlehead
I am not god
Or angel
Figurehead

I am the woman at the well
Bow your head
Drink from my cupped hands
Communion
This is my body
This is my bread
Sit at my table
Feast as if judgement day is here
Last supper

I will wash your feet
With tenderness
With tears
With perfume and oil
There is no shame in these 4 walls
At the alter
I say my prayers of thanksgiving
That I am no longer 40 years in the desert
Burn my offering with sweet oil
As the aroma wafts into heaven
They will know
The prophecy is fulfilled
Sins atoned
Covenant not broken

We cleanse our selves
Before we enter in
Into the holy of holies
Make our evening bed
This curtain was never torn.
Not for the dark day
Not for the cross
Not for sins since the beginning of time
Not for the body in the tomb
Not for the wailing women
Not for the spirits fading in the womb
Not for the lamb

You wash my back
With holy water
I wash yours
In the Jordan
Today’s baptism renews us
This is our small kingdom
Bathed in righteousness
We are clean in the eyes of God