Without Bowing
I drift to a place where I remember that I am part of this greater blessing too...
How would you honor the Creator if you couldn't kneel, bow, pray or sing?
I lay down in this heathered grass
letting my soul sift into the dirt,
becoming a breeze rushing through valleys
like a small tide,
the kind you barely notice,
rippling across the chorus of creatures that sustain us.
I let gravity take all of me,
telling my bones
“yes, this is good, it’s OK to let go now.”
I follow my breath
into my belly
and then back out,
each puff being a young bird
that disappears
up, up, and more up.
I think of all the people that hold me here,
their hands tied together in my heart
not a burden
but a blessing
with its own gravity
and patience
and grace.
I drift to a place where I remember
that I am part of this greater blessing too,
that I am one note sung,
I am one word in a prayer being made
over and over again
by the eternal.
I remember the being of all that is,
and I trust.