Holy What?

Blessed are You,
Lord our God,
King of the Universe:
flame—do You warm cold bodies
or burn “wrong” people?
wind—do You play with our hair
or destroy our homes?
rock—do You stand firm beneath us
or avalanche upon us?

Blessed are You
beyond understanding
yet close as my skin,
a mystery, infinite, expanding,
yet fully present in the nose on my face.

Blessed are You,
Lord our God,
King of the Universe:
light, but creator of night,
the kind of wild that is safe for a child,
loving fire, burning desire,
bread and oil, seed and soil,
lawmaker and lawbreaker,
water-fountain of life.
I wonder about all this
(God isn’t supposed to be chaotic),
wonder if I should be worried,
until I remember we are holding hands,
fingers laced together,
and You don’t mind
if I close my eyes
for the scary parts.