Once a year, the canyon calls our name. We let go of the heavy things and heed her summons; gather in our lonely arms words and music and beauty and fine conversation instead. There are long hours spent watching light play on water, listening to bird-magic, opening up to the stars.
These moments nourish, just as much as Tim’s baked oatmeal or apple cobbler. Maybe more. Seeds are planted that will not break the scrim of our soil-hearts, sometimes for years to come. But we feel the roots begin to tendril, feel our thoughts like soft clay, bending to make room for all these new things.
This morning, I sit in my usual with my Bonnie-girl sleeping on my lap, and I remember the words of one of our speakers. “You don’t make a poem happen,” Marilyn McEntyre said. “I really do believe they come through another channel. You craft it; you craft what you are given. But you don’t make it happen.”
Yes. And so, this is happening.
inside the river are many voices;
they speak their stories with cobwebbed tongues,
like slow-waving grasses
lifted by ebb and flow
of the tide until
they settle into the soil of our hearts
as the moon pulls the glassy waters;
and sprout from our throats
like a slow-turning vine
waiting to fruit
a part of our own story now
i shed my shoes and step gingerly,
break the surface like a dream
and bend to peer
a rippling pool
silence is the tinkling sound
of trickling water, the many voices
the river gives;
for days to come.
**The winner of Ann and Charity’s lovely book On Being a Writer is KJ! And the winner of the book set of For the Love of God: A Woman’s Guide to Finding Faith and Getting Grace and Jesus Daily: 365 Interactive Devotions is Shelly Hendricks. Congratulations! I’ll get those out to you ASAP.
Every Monday I’ll be sharing one of my Playdates with God. I would love to hear about yours. It can be anything: outside, quiet time. Maybe it’s solitary. Maybe it’s loud and crowded. Just find Him. Be with Him. Grab my button at the bottom of the page and join us: