Good Friday... or Great Friday?

It's too beautiful to be inside today. I'll make this quick so we can get on with our lives. Here's this week's poem. Have a terrific weekend everyone.

Cindy


Volition

I don’t pray in my dreams.

The notion of God
isn’t even a dream
in my dreams, because
beyond the shoals
of heavy drowse
there—in the deeper, blacker waters
I’m in the moment
treading thoughts
thoughtlessly.
I’m in this moment
and this moment too,
like an animal
who doesn’t pray
but dies ok.

Morning claims me, reigns me in.
My silver cord is tensile
resilient, intact—
for now.
And I open my eyes
in prayer
in need
desirous as always, resuming my petition.

Our Father, Mother may I?
Forgive me, and give me this.
Fill me up and give me more.
Make me whole; make me rich
and pretty and smart and
oh yes, pious.
Give me this, God,
and I shall flatter you
with grateful oblation.

I’ll have the whole world
begging you for scraps of grace,
for miracles and resolutions.
And for help finding lost things.
Just a word from me, God,
and all this could be yours.
You know what you have to do.

Moments?
Who can bother with moments
when there is only lack?
How can I be present
with pieces missing?
Yes, I am needful
and dwell upon things
I can’t change.
So I pray to God
to change them for me.

And what does he give me?
Dreams.


--Cindy S. St. Onge