Our eyes sting
From the smoke
Billowing
From the fires of fear
Stoked by the fuels
Of intention
And injustice
We cannot escape
The acrid vapor
It follows
As we move
CoverIng our faces
Turning our backs
Helps
Only for a moment
The smog of foreboding
Hangs still
All around
We need a fresh wind
Fight fire with fire
The rush of the Spirit
And the clean burning flames
Of Pentecost
Will let us breathe
Freely
Joyfully
Peacefully
Together
Come Holy Spirit
Use your Church
To clear the air
An Unexpected Writer 