I wake at four and walk outside in the dark,
in the silence of my slippers on gravel,
my blue and white housecoat.
I shoo away anything that isn’t sleeping,
which this morning is a satellite, sailing, always, out of place
among the rocketing fixity of stars.
The Big Dipper directly overhead
I line up the outside edge,
find the north star.
This is when I pray.
Nothing long or involved, nothing like Calvin
or the Russian pilgrims.
I pray, “Love us, hold us, heal us,”
add, “love me, hold me, heal me.”
And while my heart sometimes condemns me,
You do not.
You, who I abandon in the dog afternoons
and return to in the mornings,
when I know I’ll have Your attention.
Or is that perhaps mine?
Soon enough I’ll return to doubting,
confused, as many here are, by this long, strange war
of vanity and violence over truth.
Confounded even by my own perceptions,
fury and sorrow, and wondering where, or if You are.
But here, standing on these small stones by the gate
looking up,
knowing two comets are quite alive and swimming in the dark,
under my homemade fountain,
I believe: You,
who can make a sun from nothing,
who can raise a corpse,
can shine a light on what remains of the light here.
And every day
I grow more desperate and kind.
I’ve stood by a similar gate in the early dark, standing in those very shadows between belief & doubt. Thank you for expressing what my heart feels today.
Thank you Anne, for reading, and for your honesty.
Loved this. You are a master of words and have a keen understanding of the human spirit’s longing for divine intimacy.
Thank you Kellie, for your kindness and encouragement.
Beautifully expressed thoughts and feelings. Thoroughly authentic. Thank you.
Thank you Allan. That means a lot to me.
Many who are old enough will identify with and respect this acknowledgment.
Thanks Steve.
Thank you Ike. And I do so respect your own wisdom.
“Love us, hold us, heal us.” Amen
Agreed. Thank you Susan.
Thanks for this reflection. May I use “Love us, hold us, heal us.” Amen” as the signature on my email? So fitting for this time in our lives.
Don
Thank you Don. And yes, of course.
I tried to post this, complete with comment, but it wouldn’t work. So rather than wait for “them” to fix things, I will just comment here. I am usually housebound – I often wish for such personal observations and conversations with God. So today, I will lean on yours. Thank you for sharing!!
Thank you so much Liz! Wishing you wellness.
You put into words the inexpressible that this lies deep in the heart. Thank you ?
Ananda, your words are always encouraging. Thank you!
Stephen, this is now one of my favorites. I sometimes too go out at 4 or 5 in the morning and stand under Orion and his companions and drink in the silence. An Ignatian friend recently said that our deepest desire is our deepest prayer. Your words have painted a picture of just that. Thank you.
Thank you dear fellow constellation-gazer. I like your Ignatian friend.
Thank you for sharing these words. They ring true
Thank you Dan.
Every time I read your words here I am rewarded – thank you for this. Love us, hold us, heal us carries a lot of weight this morning.
Thank you Dave!
Steve, I think that someday some aspiring graduate student English major will write a thesis or dissertation on your theology! Yesterday in a presentation I gave, I said in answer to a question that we need a robust theology of common grace. I’m not sure where that came from – but maybe from GrowMercy. Great poem this!
You are very kind Sam. Thank you! And thank you for your ongoing encouragement.