The Silent Place - a prayer

I pray to be lifted in beauty,
to see the cool bright day before me
and take in the music of garden,
the distant murmur of the sea.

To remember the stars above my head
whenever I waken
and the moon slowly turning
around the planet turning too.

To remember the continents afloat
and the sands over the mountain
at the beck and call of waves.

To enjoy each breath I am afforded
and to smile more than I have, to smile in the eyes.

To smell the freshness of time in the morning
instead of feeling chased all my life.

To learn the meaning of rest in a given moment
and to give back generously.

I am seeking to throw off this old skin that
hinders movement.

May I be born all over again
and see everything for the first time?

May I be able to appreciate the
glorious life I've been offered?

May I take your hands and be led
in peace and quiet even though there
is a noise, a chaos all around me.

Let me be in the silent place
of knowing I am loved.

Amen.

Jenneth Graser

Photography - Bethany Legg Unsplash

A Mother Has a Mountain Inside of Her

A mother has a mountain inside of her,
but her head is above the clouds.

She must be prepared to feel the
rivers run from a collection of rain
into the sea at her feet.

A woman stretches out her clenched fist
to feel a sunbird in the pool of her hand, bathe
and then fly off.

It is important to know
when to hold onto the dirt and the root
and when to cleanse your hands in the fountain.

Birds swoop from her soul into her heart,
catching insects on summer days softened by rain.

Love is here beating upon her.

She has only to observe the threshold of her womb
to know how much love
has passed through her body.

She is a threshold of many doors
and will let the feelings find a way on
through.

Wind must usher forth the rest of it
with seeds finding a place to grow,
carrying only the burdens away.

The sky clears with high clouds cirrus
speaking of everything hopeful.

Inside of her is a place no noise can reach.

She is floating on a sea of courage
bearing her aloft.

Under water a whole world is thriving unseen,
but such seekers of silence dive into it
and come up themselves reborn,

ready for dry land once again.

Jenneth Graser

Photography Victor Carvalho Unsplash

Silence Beckons to Us First Thing

Silence beckons to us first thing,
ascending in the pre-dawn mist
on the call of animals
that can sense day is coming.

We wait until we feel the invitation
to approach first light
with the prayers we have kept for the earth.

We drift each benediction into sky,
out of reach of gravity.

Our prayers spread out over the
circumnavigating planet
and enfold the people waiting
for answers from the firmament.

Our prayers swirl out of the Milky Way
and head on through stars into heavenly realms,
as incense carried through angel's feathers
and inhaled into God's very nostrils.

Each star pales and then we cannot see the stars
anymore, but that doesn't mean they are not there.

We come upon the sun as our planet turns
by degree into the movements of a day.

The moon hugs the earth with swivelled bliss,
and lingers over the horizon.

Our souls reach far beyond the confines of our bodies
into the places banquet feasts are thrown
for the ones that have gone ahead.

Spirit mentions each of us by name
in a language meant for the time
Babel crumbles into dust and we are able
to look at each other, and finally understand.

Jenneth Graser

Photography Fernando Pereira Unsplash

A Time of Resurrection

We have set aside our treasures
and unearthed the familiar
of your voice on the pages of the Gospels
to find you in the flesh as the Son of God.

Every parable seems written with a message
reserved for our ears
to hear.

We have turned off the bright lights
and walked out of consumer packages
promising so much contentment.

We have taken in so much information
and been led to so many sources,
but we are choosing silence.

We are choosing the source of all sources
and learning to forget some new-fangled ways,
so that we can rediscover our foundation.

So that we can see the faces
waiting for our eyes.

We have held your hand on the Via Dolorosa
and cried with you and asked to bear your cross.
And you have carried our tears with each heavy load
into a time of resurrection.

Jenneth Graser

Hidden

It is good to be hidden in the great garden.
It is good to be hidden in rain.

It is good to be under the fingerprints
of green foliage among trees.

It is good to be hidden in the hand, in prayer,
to be under the wing.

To be hidden by wave upon wave, and behind the waterfall.

To be hidden in the womb and the fluff of the nest,
to be held in the cloth of motherly care.

To be under the night sky of a new moon
in the middle of a field looking into star upon star,
in the grass, hidden.

Such times were given to us so that we may listen,
and speak and be heard.

So that we may find ourselves
alone in the presence of greatness.

So that we may know we
are small

and yet find the universe is expanding on our breath
and upon each thought as we crest the tides
of love in being
hidden.

Jenneth Graser

Artist - Dorothy Lathrop

The Depths of Silence

Climb this well worn path,
a crunch of gravel flicks the verge.

Breathe into the pain of long having remained.

Now it is time to feel the steep
trail call you to
where the air grows thin.

Rocks obscure the way, but you
no longer give in to them.

You grope for a handhold
and pull yourself through
the risk of falling.

Up, over the boulders onto
the strangeness of unfamiliar ground.

The voices critical have
hummed under the door for too long.

You are called to a kind of quiet,
where waterfalls thrash mountains
into holding pools so deep.

Stand on the edge of the view -
take in the senses of
being, above all things.

Feel your mind become one
with every promise you believe.

You are ready to finally plunge
with a breath and a step;
into the depths of silence.

Then you will know what to do.

Jenneth Graser

#write31days
Day 5 Prompt - silence

Photo - amazinglytimedphotos.com