As the years go by, I've adopted this little poetry practice as a way of moving into Holy Week, and down the path...there's much work to do this time of year...but the practice helps me stay in the rhythm of sacred steps...
Walk the steps only your soul can find,
And someday, somewhere, somehow
You will leave the trail they told you to take.
That moment will shock you (and maybe them),
As you pull inconvenient branches from your face,
And brush leaves and tears from your eyes--
You may not see, yet, what your heart knows.
Breathing, you are befriended by the breath
That broods first when newness is near.
On this pilgrimage, your own pilgrimage,
The namelessness of all beginnings beckons, calls.
Know this, pilgrim: yours is not a new path,
Nor are you forever alone, forever wandering off.
Ancient as the wise river running the green forests,
Searching for the wild sea, trusting that very journey,
Your faith knows the hymns of prophets,
The whispered benedictions of ancestors,
And the broken alleluias of so many other pilgrims.
There is, just ahead, a circle waiting for you now,
Preparing a table of plenty for your arrival:
Your name is known to us, your question--a blessing.
In the clearing ahead, you will find us rejoicing.
Monday, Holy Week,
Poetry as Practice
3/29/21
DGJ
