for you are
for you are
when i greet patron star
i acknowledge that i could
not live here without
her eternal fire
when i meet brother son
i embrace the knowledge
that i am loved by
an unquenchable flame
when i am present
to the morning
this gift of another day
the rising sun
and the risen one
created and creator
i bow into the warm
embrace of the holy
and begin this day
with his name
on my tongue
In the early morning shadows of a curtained room, I hear the dawning of another day.
The rumbling of the waking furnace and the groaning of hot water pipes beneath my feet mixes with the noise of a blue jay outside crying, “Thief! Thief!”
Within the shuttered room of my heart, there is a sense that something precious has been stolen from me in the night while I slept and that I am destined to wander this day wondering what if anything was lost and whether I will find it again.
I can choose to spend my day in such aimless seeking.
Or I can come truly awake, open up the curtains to the gray day, and let the night go.
The thermostat clicks. I feel the rush of hot air through the ducts of the house.
Outside it is quiet. The blue jay has disappeared.
I am still not a friend to my brokeness.
I am too often a spectator to my life.
I continue to be uncomfortable with my silence.
I spend too much time dodging raindrops.
I wrap my hands around the warmth of a cup of green tea.
I sit and I sip and I ponder the mystery that is me.
I do not answer the door.
I do not get up for the phone.
For beck and call love to conspire against any time alone.
The mug is cold and empty now.
The door unlocked again.
Having been a friend to myself I can now be a friend to friend.
November 2, 2007
i wish i could rest
the seat is there
arms open and waiting
but there is so much to do
i don’t have time to sit down
i circle around
trying to ignore its invitation
if not now when?
suddenly i am sitting there
i feel the morning breeze
i look up at a crow flying over
i hear the birdsong in the trees
Here below we mourn the death of a child while in the playroom above I hear the sound of another’s running feet.
Here below we live between birth and dying while above the heavens remind us of the hand that guides us through the journey.
In life and in death we belong to God.
Blessed be the name of the Lord.