Manna Meditations

storm passing over …

Manna Meditations, Day 37


The sky is bruised black in places … and still, the light shines through:

Think, for a moment, about what this might mean.


Manna Meditations

after the ice storm …

Manna Meditations, Day 28

The ice that encased us inside all day gives way, suddenly, to sun:

It is this way always, isn’t it?

The Light, knifing through the cold.

The gray, giving way to glitter and spark:

Here is what I know: Goodness comes slow, but it wins every time. 💛

Almost Poetry, Manna Meditations

this is what i am trying to tell you …

Manna Meditations, Day 12

I find the Light
rumpled in the morning sheets–
toss back the quilt and there it is,
rising in the gold air,
catching in the dust motes,
setting them on fire.

Sometimes, too,
I find it caught fast
in a crosshatch of frost on the windows,
or crystalline, scattered
over spikes of frozen grass.

I swallow it in the sunshine
on my eggs at breakfast.

It glints on my glasses
as I read.

Sometimes I could lick
the Light off my fingers like butter —
Sometimes it drips through my hands
and down my wrists
like spilled perfume.


But some mornings,
I wake and it is not there.

I am thirsty for it, calling for it,
crack-lipped and crazed
as a fever patient.

In those days,
the shadows fill the room
and the sky is snuffed
& there is no appetite
for eggs
or butter
or perfume
or the Presence.


In that day,
carry the Light to me
in your cupped hands.

Kneel at my bedside, Friend,
and I’ll drink from your upturned palms.


Hear me.

Oh, hear me:

When we are not alone
(and we are never alone),

there is always Enough.