Sally Witt
You have formed my heart
into an O Antiphon
and I cannot quell my thirst for you,
O Rising Dawn, O Desire of Nations.
O King and Leader, Root of Jesse,
O Wisdom and Key of freedom from our inner jails,
my being yearns for you;
it calls from the long O of loneliness
into mystery, into still unshaped joy.
Somewhere beneath the embers of our scorched forests,
under brownfields releasing toxic breath,
there grows a fertile shoot, protected, strong;
for its flowering I long.
O Emmanuel, Come!
