A Prayer for You

you asked me
to pray for you

and so I looked
into myself
to notice
a soft, steady trickle
of clear water
like a mountain spring

growing,
changing,
listening
all the while
to the trees,
the sky,
the birdsong,
the pebbles,
the crickets,
and the clarion call
of a faraway ocean

and then flowing out,
awakened
to the silence
resting deep
within
words,
this world,
this womb,
the arrival
of a new you
and me
I cannot see,
and a voice
that can finally speak.
a prayer for you.

My Prayer

and I pray
that my words sing
the many songs
of still water
flowing
to die
while it lives
a thousand lives.

Invocation

and when my fingers moved
across the silent white,
to draw your frozen form,
I felt them reach out
on the wings of a prayer,
across those miles
of emptiness,
to touch your face,
your eyes,
your heart,
as they touched me
and became mine.

The Prayer Wheel

One cold afternoon
as I walked
a mountain dream,
I stopped by
a little prayer wheel
and watched it turn
with the unfaltering flow
of a happy, gurgling stream;

and I wondered and asked -
what are prayers really?
where are they born?
where do they go?
who listens to them?
who watches them flow?

and then the stream
she laughed quietly and said,
"have you felt round pebbles
stuck in the wet grass,
and the crisp fresh snow
on high mountain tops;
have you heard
the red thrush whistle
as he darts through the blue,
and caught the magic and smiles
as rain turns to hail, then snow;
what do you think?
do we pray? do you know?"

I stopped awhile
as the prayer wheel rolled,
and I think I heard the song
of the wild earth, as she turned;
and the stream she flowed on,
as she smiled and waved

my eyes they became hands,
and my steps, wings.

Prayer Flags

the cold wind
stings and bites
into half-dead skin
ready now
to be shed
and blessed;
scars and wounds,
some healed, or
not healed -
chants of private grief,
framed in eternity.

memories and dreams
tied to
unwavering trees,
stories of pain
and longing
left untold still,
like silent prayer flags
dancing and riding
on the breath
of a fanning,
folding wind.

A Prayer

let me light
the flame inside
to keep me warm
on a cold dark night,
let me hold
the flame within
to light a path
that is not in sight,
let me seek not
to light another lamp
whose flame flickers
now in the dying light,
let me walk today
towards the Light,
knowing
that a day will come
when they will
hold their flame
and shine their light.

Sacred River of Life

I come to you

as a child to her mother -

holding on to

a far away memory

of a safe womb -

the place of sacred rest;

standing beside you,

I can now look up

at the raging sun

with moist love;

I bend down

to hold and lift you

in my cupped palms

just as you held me

with your divine grace;

and then let you go 

with moist love 

and a silent prayer -

back to the source

of all that is;

rose petals and clay lamps,

my humble offerings,

afloat in your bosom,

with gratitude and love.

 

Prayer

Oh Mother!
I see your
blood-shot eyes
glow from afar,
as I wait in line
for the moment, the spark,
to touch the vermilion
that sets my heart afire,
to empty my cup
of all wishes and desire.
I come home
to the loving space
that holds me, humbles me,
with your divine grace.
I close my eyes,
my hands close in too,
I hold a prayer in my heart,
what more can I do?
no words, no thoughts,
just an empty, warm silence,
wraps me up safe, as I
offer my all to You, in obeisance.