Thirst

Another morning and I wake with thirst for the goodness I do not have. I walk out to the pond and all the way God has given us such beautiful lessons. Oh Lord, I was never a quick scholar but sulked and hunched over my books past the hour and the bell; grant me, in your mercy, a little more time. Love for the earth and love for you are having such a long conversation in my heart. Who knows what will finally happen or where I will be sent, yet already I have given a great many things away, expecting to be told to pack nothing, except the prayers which, with this thirst, I am slowly learning.

This morning with the day blind stars slowly fading from my vision, I am ending Thirst – the book. My own thirst and hunger if anything is ever greater after holding this collection of prayers close to my heart this past span of days. In Mary’s words I hear so much that is wise in the world’s religions, for they too seem to be saying that there is more love to be had at the end of the day and at the end of our lives. All our days are but a prayer to slack that thirst that arises from lives grown parched from our perceived separation. Perhaps you do not say “prayer” for your intentional work to affirm a path of goodness and love is meditation, nature walks, dancing in the Sufi way, singing, justice work, and this book of poems. Whatever our paths may be, today is another day, another beginning, where we can begin again, learning ever deeper and more glorious ways to love, to pray, to live.

From where does your hunger or thirst arise?