There's so much you want to say,
but time keeps taking time and all
your words away. How to say—amid
this flood of gratitude and grief—
"Thank you!", or "How beautiful,
how grand!", or "I don't know how
I survived", or "I miss you so," or
"I was changed forever the day
we two joined hands."
As you reach for your last words,
you realize this is it—this ebbing tide
of language called your life, words
trailing into silence, returning to
the source—this unfinished poem
you would have writ, had you not
been awash in wonder, grateful
to be living it.
Attending in readiness waiting
My soul meets yours,
Enter, Oh Holy Spirit,
Creation's Lord.
Tending in rapt devotion
Spirit's gentle touch --
Open as an infant's gaze
More insistent than any pain.
Open in steadiness attending
Creation's one and all,
Trusting Its wondrous tenderness.
Am I at least Its child?