One Foot in Eden

One foot in Eden,

where light spills soft through the branches,

and the river sings a song without sorrow.

Here, the air is thick with presence,

and the ground remembers the weight of love.

One foot in exile,

where dust settles in the creases of my skin,

and the wind carries the scent of something lost.

Hiraeth—

a longing deeper than words,

a homesickness for a place I have never seen,

but somehow know.

The kingdom has come,

and yet I walk through ruins.

The tree of life bears fruit,

and yet hunger gnaws at the edges of the world.

The veil was torn,

but shadows still stretch across the earth.

How long, O Lord,

must I wander through the already and the not yet,

where the song of Eden calls me forward,

but the ache of exile holds me still?

But there was One

who placed both feet in earth,

who walked the sorrowed ground,

who let the dust cling to his skin.

Two hands stretched wide,

pierced between heaven and ruin,

bearing the weight of exile itself.

The tomb split open.

The firstfruits rose.

The kingdom broke through,

like green shoots through the wintered soil.

And now the wind shifts.

The earth stirs.

Somewhere, beneath the decay,

roots remember the rain.

And so I walk,

sometimes I stumble and limp,

wounded by the waiting,

sometimes I dance and run,

caught in the joy of what is breaking in.

one foot in Eden,

one foot in exile,

until the dawn breaks,

until the tree of life

bears fruit for the healing of the nations,

in the reconciliation of all things.

- Rev’d Jon Swales