Expand my heart, Jesus.
Pull it and stretch it
to make there a shelter
for the widow and the orphan,
for the sick friend or colleague.
Let not your broken, naked
body on the cross ever become
for me a visual cliché.
Let it rather be a riveting icon
of a heart pierced and drained
to heal and make us whole,
of hands and feet nailed down
to set us free from our captivities,
of a head hanging limp in death
so that we might look up with hope in life.
Make me, Jesus, a great lover
in the small things of daily living,
attentive to a child’s need
or an old person’s limitation;
responsive to a loved one’s joy
or a neighbor’s grief.
Soak, wash, rinse, shake
and hang out this heart of mine
to blow in the wind of your Spirit
until it be easily folded in love.
Reduce me, Lord, to love.