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Posts Tagged ‘prayer’

 

 

The white sauce whisked to smoothness

before the cheese is added,

and the elbow noodles boiled till they’re al dente,

 

the Pyrex buttered with long looping swirls of the fingers,

the cheddar spread evenly on top.

It is not easy for most people to see

 

devotion in the mac and cheese.

It doesn’t look like prayer.

But it’s there.

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Literal

 

 

The more light you allow within you, the brighter the world you live in will be.

            —Shakti Gawain

 

So I invite lanterns,

candles, torches, tapers,

street lights, spotlights,

glow worms, lasers,

wood matches, lighters

and one small prayer,

and at last I notice

it’s brighter around here.

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The heart that breaks open can contain the whole universe.

            —Joanna Macy

 

 

Give me a heart that breaks—

ears willing to hear the difficult news

and legs that do not choose to run from it.

 

Yes, give me a heart big enough

to accommodate a wrestling match inside,

a mind that knows no one wins a war,

 

hands that move to help no matter

what the mind might say.

Give me a heart that opens

 

long after it thinks it’s already open,

and lips that know when to listen.

Give me a heart that knows itself

 

as other hearts. Give me feet

that will stand when someone must stand

for justice. And a spine flexible enough

 

to turn and see all sides. Snow falls

on all my thoughts. It sometimes

takes a long time to melt, a long time

 

before I remember again to pray

to be open, to pray for a heart that breaks,

to notice the stars shining from the inside.

 

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One Sincerity

 

 

 

just outside my window

larkspur erupts

into generous blue—

in me blossoms

an old prayer

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One Prayer

 

 

 

with no snow

to make snow angels

I flap my arms

make night angels

send them to you

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On a Difficult Day

 

 

Because I don’t know how to pray,

I do what I know to do,

which is to sit very quietly

and let myself feel. To hold you

without holding you.

To imagine your fear

and breathe into it.

To feel my own fear

and walk the edges of its cliffs.

To lean on hope with its flimsy

net and feel how little it takes

to catch us, to save us.

 

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Before you slog the next mile,

God sits beside you

and rubs your feet and ankles,

tells you jokes,

and spills his heart to you—

the next day,

still exhausted,

you find yourself laughing

grateful to have feet.

 

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Three Answered Prayers

 

 

 

in the beginning

before the word

the silence

 

*

 

walking the other

direction it’s so obvious,

that waterfall we missed

 

*

 

in my pocket

this laughter—all day

I pat it to check if it’s still there

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Showing Up

 

 

 

Before I pray

I do not wash

my hands—

not out of disrespect

but because

I do not

want to pretend

to be any cleaner

than I really am,

this filth,

this patina of depravity,

this is part

of why

I have come

to pray—

if I waited

to wash the stains

from my skin,

my lips, my sleeves,

I might

never pray

at all.

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Strange Prayer

 

 

 

When we know

we are lost

it seems

so obvious

to stop,

pay closer attention,

ask for help.

 

May we always

see

how

we

are

lost.

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