There are these; the blue
Skirts of the ocean walking in now, almost
To the edge of town,
And a thousand birds, in their incredible wings
Which they think nothing of, crying out
That the day is long, the fish are plentiful.
And friends, being as kind as friends can be,
Striving to lift the darkness.
Forgive me, Lord of honeysuckle, of trees,
Of notebooks, of typewriters, of music,
That there are also these:
The lover, the singer, the poet
Asleep in the shadows.
We humans - mourning that we mourn, regretting that our nights are long, looking deep into the shadows, hoping not for dancing wings or flash of fish, but for what sleeps in our memory. I know not of Mary’s loss, but I feel it within me. For how many times today will I glance over the breakfast table and not see son, spouse, or the lightening day that still has not greeted the sun. May I not forget to greet sun or sun, and wake to what is here now.
What is your prayer today?
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