Moss Landing Prayer

Each moment a letter or word, sometimes a song, all written into me...

read or listen:

Every day I spent with my children at the beach
wrote prayers into me,
sitting like cups and small plates
in a cupboard,
waiting.

We were met with fog and thumping surf,
washed up jelly-fish
shells and stones and driftwood castles.
Each moment a letter or word,
sometimes a song,
all written into me,
never with an ending.

My sons small hands
scooping into the sand
digging, always digging,
daughter weaving seaweed branches
into our dogs fur,
a crown,
a decoration for a tail,
the lions mane she always
seemed to be needing.

All gathering inside of me,
the prayer I will say at the end of life.

Not of glory, honesty, God or some strange purpose,
but of our love play
dancing through me even now.