morning poem, October 8, 2016

 

I almost can’t believe the quiet

In this rainy morning, there is no unwelcome noise

No rattled callers, ignorant of their own circumstances

Making passioned demands for justice.

 

There are no pending motions

No calls to return

 

Should I be bored

Or fear loneliness?

Oh, no

This is rest, real rest

The kind that was Promised

What a surprise it is to

Recognize, deeply and slowly and deliberately

That we (I) live in grace

How gratifying the notion

Can one yet believe it?

That some portion of one’s labors is done

And that there is reward

That is so broad and rich

That it will take time to unfold

Time to be perceived and interpreted

 

In the morning I will sit

And marvel at the chatter

Of the birds

I will find old books

And be reminded of my first guides

And be renewed

I will listen to the old songs

And dance again

I will counsel deeply

With those brothers

I have known

I will deepen

What is there on the other side of life?

Only this: more life.

 

 

Copyright 2016

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2 Responses to morning poem, October 8, 2016

  1. This is hope and grace.

  2. labeak52 says:

    Inspired by your generous comments.

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