Manna Meditations

an invitation …

Manna Meditations, Day 9

See the rain, if you like …

Or see the raindrops spangling each twig and leaf … the whole world bedecked in jewels.

Choose. ūüíõ<<<<
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Everyday Wonder

gratitude…

  
Tonight.

It’s late. The rain falls on the house for hours without stopping — a slow, steady rain. The kind that brings the world to life.

Meanwhile I’m here inside, listening to the drumming on the roof. 

The dinner guests have gone. 

The dishes have been cleaned, the wine glasses placed back on the shelf, upside down, glinting in the yellow light.

After all the laughter, it’s quiet, and suddenly I have space to draw a breath and take it in.

And I realize: it’s enough. 

The echoes of conversation and laughter.  The fading image of myself with my head on a friend’s shoulder.  My husband, now asleep in the next room, his breath easy and slow. 

The summer, so wet and green and full. 

And oh, God, there is so much more I want to build and be and do. But if this is all I ever have time for — well, then…

It’s enough. ‚̧

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Thoughts in Progress

Quiet

A black-and-white photograph of a pale rose, the focus lightly blurred, the petals unfurling.

Come in, Love,
and shake the rain
from your shoulders.

Come —
let the storm lash
the panes of the windows,
the thunder rattle
the bones of the house.
Here we’ll make Quiet¬†
the way some people
make Love.

(I’ll tell you a secret:
Sometimes they’re one & the same.)

Let’s not talk¬†of the¬†world
outside the door —
the storm has snapped
the wires to this place,
and no outside voices
can reach us.

We will not eat at the table, 
but here on the floor,
the blanket smoothed out,
the glass bowl full of
petals and candlelight.

There’s a broken husk
of pomegranate.

Bread.

Wine.

The still air empty between us,
and the invitation 
to fill it.

Hush. ‚̧

 

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Almost Poetry

brave words for fearful people …

Go out into the world:

a rain-spattered window, with bare tree limbs beyond, rendered in black and white

Go!  Yes, you — though you are fearful and fragile and small.

Go broken-winged and bent-boned and beauty-starved… Lovesick.  Stardrunk. Skydizzy.

Or go sharp-eyed and sober, if that’s how it is — the hunger for the light a clenched fist in your stomach.  A hand, opening slowly in your chest like a flower.

If you are frightened, use it.

If you are desperate, use it.

Let the jitter and snap of your fear drive you scrambling up the cliff.  Grasp the sudden handle of the crescent moon, and haul and kick your way to the top.

Go!  Go by sea or land or air, or in the unfettered flight of your dreams.  Go alone, if you must.  Drag us with you, if you can.  

Just go.  And keep on going…

a pale blue and pink sunset sky, framed by bare tree limbs

Yes, you. ‚̧

 

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Everyday Wonder

When it’s Fall and it’s cold & wet but I’m brave & hopeful anyway …

Rain falls.
The trees flame.

Morning.

*

I step into the car and find it coated with wet leaves, the brown foliage glued to grill & windshield and hood.

I start the engine, and a flock of small black birds shudders upward.  Lifts through gray light.

*

On the road I am driving fast now. ¬†Water¬†hisses in the wheelwells, and already I feel the passing of what was — the coming of the cold.

Come on.

The words rise to my lips and I speak them like a dare — come on — green eyes narrowed.

Come, Autumn, and all it represents:  come fine lines and frost and ice.

Come, gray hairs curled in my brush.  Black boughs crosshatched on white snow.

Come:¬† blue veins and blizzard — I’ll climb my fading body like a ladder into Next. ¬†Laugh at the days to come.

(I am not always so brave, but I am today — and that’s enough).

Well, come on then.

*

The car slides forward through rainwet gold.  The trees shed their summer leaves and I shed the past year like a suit of skin splitting open down the spine.

This place is too small for me now.

I flick on the windshield wipers and watch the cold rain disappear.  The wet leaves loosen from the hood, fluttering back.

A glance in the rearview and already they’re behind me:¬† dry dead things, skittering and tumbling in the road.

*

Pedal to the floor.

Gone.

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