Blankie Prayers

Just the hem, O my God, just the hem.
Hide your face, turn your back even,
but let the hem of your robe linger
as a comfort through the long night.
Send your visions to one more gifted;
let another more foolish in faithfulness
glimpse the wonder of your wisdom;
for myself, nothing so glorious but
the sight of a stitch in your hem.
Would that I could catch its fibers
and with them knit a consolation
to bind up every aching heart
and bring peace to my own.
One prayer, O God: your hem.

on Isaiah 6:1

Third Sunday in Lent (Ephemeral)

A wisp of wind, a passing moment, a grace note:
let me be glad just to have known it
grateful for the warm breath on my cheek
for the caring space between words for
the music which cannot be held.
At your invitation, O God, I will
be still and savor this life that is
so poignantly temporary
this sonata that builds and fades
like the moon in its
waxing and waning
never meant to remain
only meant for joy
only meant for tears.
One suspension of time,
one fleeting breeze
one kiss on my cheek
and my soul will be satisfied
for a lifetime
even if, O God,
you never draw near again
I will be glad.

Mourning with Jacob (a litany)

We were here.
Now we are not.
Even “here” is gone.

What we have known as life
Now we will know as history
While tomorrow remains only hearsay

We would set a stone if we could
A marker to say, “Here was change”
A memorial to acknowledge, “Here were others”

But there is no cemetery
for relationships and homes and structures
that have defined our comings and goings for so long

So we pray to Jacob with his fondness for stone-markers
to share his life lessons in consolation through change
to show us how to grieve without sacred burial grounds.