Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
I am trying to stand here
among snow-bowed trees
and softly buried grasses
but my breath escapes me
in little vanishing schools of fish,
the snow patiently falling
makes me a distant mountain,
the trees' hidden roots
thread me deep into the earth,
the clouds make sign language
that I belong to the sky.
For a moment
I am close to just being here
but the blackbirds swing down
and carry me off on their black wings to
—I don't know where.
I don't know at all.
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve
______________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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