I lift my eyes to my smartphone;
from whence comes news of help?
My help comes from job security,
a network of friends, a tax return.
Meanwhile, the LORD who set the foundations of the earth
will not let me stand still and brings more trouble than rest.
The sun is unremorseful as it blinds me;
the moon casts nightmares in shadows.
The winter’s snow & ice chill my soul to its core;
shade, rain, fog, and storm show no partiality.
Struggle takes hold of me if it is so inclined
and goodness likes to dance out of reach.
But God has not abandoned me under sun or moon;
from the hills and through the city, God has kept me.
God has not abandoned me.
This is all: God has kept me.
I lower my eyes,
and see a feather, small and white.
It sits on the palm of my hand.
Holding it, looking at it closely, at the different strands, at the strong central line, it gives me help.
My help is in the softness, the strength, the lightness of this fragile part of a bird’s wing.
Coming in, going out.
Coming in, going out.
Coming in, going out.
Breathing in peace, breathing out fear.
A smudge of love takes flight into the wide, wide sky of God.