The result of prayer is life.
Prayer irrigates the heart. -St. Francis
Every day love corners me somewhere
and surrounds me with peace
without having to look very far or very hard
or do anything special. -Thomas Merton
Watering the parched heart
sprinkling prayer into the deep cracks
permitting the moisture to run
in tiny rivers into the crannies
the chaffed soul absorbing the balm for all wounds,
abruptly I draw my lips from the cup.
A wild cry like a lone goose lost in an endless sky –
I am not worthy.
My coarse palate cannot savor these subtle flavors,
this blend of spreading oaks, ocean spray, the notes of birdsong,
the aftertaste of tears.
Nor may I make myself gentle enough,
still and pure, for the sweet delicacy of love.
I, oafish, gulp the gift, lurch clumsy through the beauty.
Have mercy.
Yet everywhere, everywhere
you are there
streaming your silken waters through creation
calling,
Ho, everyone who thirsts, come!
You compose webs
across our path.
Sticky strands cling to us.
You fill our throats with laughter.
All day from my shoulder trails a ribbon of light.
The Praying Life 