Posts Tagged ‘miracle’

Years from now,
I want to remember
the way tears
became white doves
and flew away,
the way stepping stones
appeared to help me
cross an impossible
river, the way
a crumpled letter arrived
from the dead
to proclaim
I am surrounded with joy.
Oh woman who lives
in my skin years from now,
don’t try to pretend
it didn’t happen.
It did. A rainbow
blossomed above
your shoulder.
Your head opened up
to receive golden light.
Life wrapped its strong hands
around your heart.
And when you asked
your son, Are you close,
you felt against your ribs
a knocking
from the inside.

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Morning After

Again the chance to praise

the same room, the same floor,

the same view, the same tea,

the same image in the same mirror,

which today is startlingly not the same.

Again the chance to find the miracle

in the leaves that fall, the miracle

in the morning sun, the miracle

in the willows beside the pond.

Again, the chance to fall in love

with the same sky, the same field,

the same dirt, the same broken world.

Again, the chance to show up

with these same tired arms

and put them to work,

the same work as yesterday,

which is to learn to lift up,

to heal, to carry, to build,

to be in the world, to praise

the same room, the same floor,

the same view, the same tea.

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One Marvel

after Issa

common as morning

this love and yet

and yet

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When pregnant, it was clear

I was along for the ride with a miracle.

Sure, I could eat organic broccoli,

walk and eschew caffeine,

but that was just taking care

of the vessel. Life itself

was doing the real work.


Imagine my surprise today

to realize I’m still along for the ride.

How did I ever kid myself

that I was in charge?

And oh, the bliss today

to notice anew these hands,

these eyes, these feet!

What joy to see them again

as the miracle they are,

to offer them in service to life.

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Finding the Miracles

How often do I miss miracles dressed in ordinary clothes? That’s the theme of this sonnet published today in Gratefulness.org. Check it out and share it!

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From a brown envelope sent by Amazon,

I pull out Bread and Miracles, a book

of poems I’ve admired for years.

I wrote the author long ago

to tell her I love her poems,

the way she makes devotion

of earthworms and camas lilies.

But there is no way to explain why

her words arrive here in my own kitchen

except through some miracle, which is,

I suppose, another name for kindness.


Whoever you are, sweet sender

of poems, thank you. Thank you

for knowing exactly what book

I might like to receive, though

I’ve never told anyone. Thank you

for knowing there would be a day

when a dear man died and I would need

to remember that goodness thrives,

that generosity flourishes, that

there are people out there who,

out of pure benevolence,

extend themselves to others.


There is a fairy tale in which

bread crumbs are insufficient to save

a brother and sister. But they are saving

this woman, and though I don’t know

where the trail began, I follow it forward

saying thank you, thank you, thank you.



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They call it the Jesus lizard

because it walks on water,

yes, walks—or rather runs—

upright on two feet.

It was Matthew who wrote

how Jesus Christ walked

on the Sea of Galilee.

Christ had to tell his disciples not

to be afraid. But the Jesus Lizard

runs on water because he is afraid—

up to five feet per second.

It’s either run on water

or burrow into the sand—

and the lizard has a ring

of muscles around both nostrils

to prevent sand from getting in.

Is that miracle? or just practical?

But to run! To run on water!

After fifteen feet,

the lizard sinks to all fours

and swims. But imagine!

To be part of the miracle,

if only for a moment,

to do what seems as if

it cannot be done.

The scientists say it’s no miracle at all.

The lizards have flaps between their toes

that create a larger surface area

and also small pockets of air—

this gives the lizard buoyancy.

What part of me would rather believe

in miracles than science? Or, is it possible

we’ve made the definition

of miracle too small? Perhaps

flaps between toes is an miracle of evolution.

Perhaps, this too, is a miracle:

two feet, ten toes that walk

on land, one foot moving forward at a time.


check out this crazy critter here: https://www.google.com/search?q=jesus+lizard+animal+wikipedia&oq=j&aqs=chrome.1.69i57j35i39j69i61l3j69i59.2991j0j7&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8




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Open your hands, lift them.

            —William Stafford, “Today”



The parking space beside the store when you

were late. The man who showed up just in time

to hold the door when you were juggling five

big packages. The spider plant that grew—

though you forgot to water it. The new

nest in the tree outside your window. Chime

of distant church bells when you’re lonely. Rhyme

of friendship. Apples. Sky a trove of blue.


And who’s to say these miracles are less

significant than burning bushes, loaves

and fishes, steps on water. We are blessed

by marvels wearing ordinary clothes—

how easily we’re fooled by simple dress—

Oranges. Water. Leaves. Bread. Crows.



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then I guess it’s fair to say

that today, we walked on water—

how easy it is to not notice

how our every step

is miracle

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Day of the Dead

it’s a miracle, I tell you

—Laura Kasischke, “Near Misses”


It’s a miracle, I tell you,

that I am here to make the breakfast

and spread the jelly

on the stale bagel,

a miracle for me to walk

down the icy street

in these scuffed up boots

with these scuffed up feet

and my scuffed up dreams

and my scuffed up love,

a miracle to wander through

the smear of the days,

the spill of the years,

my cells slowing down,

my candles blown out

and relit and blown out

and relit again,

yes a miracle, not just

biology, to feel it so profoundly,

this gratitude that I might stumble

and stride through the world,

a little hum finding my lips

as one foot falls again

in front of the other,

and is lifted, then falls,

and is lifted again.

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