Morning Hope

In this morning
I begin again to weave my little life.
I take up various strands
from yesterday
and begin to pull and tug
on chosen threads,
with morning’s hope
that still they might
make something beautiful:
one day
the threads might fall together
– to my surprise! –
and make some sense.
Or usefulness.
And even if they don’t,
I feel creative
– in the morning! –
and continue effort
to build a life
from many, many tiny threads
– from “experience.”

Afternoon Despair

So many strands!
I grab one here
and pull it through
to find three more connected
but unseen.
Now more un-done
than done,
I need a nap.
I need my morning hope again.
My desk a mess!
Like roaches reappearing
against all effort,
projects pop up over empty space.
“Progress” seems illusion,
mirage that calls the traveler forward
across the hopeless landscape,
but only promise.
    Hunger.
Not for lunch, but joy.
Spirit-whipped
in such short time!
Music! Music give me back
My peace
And smile,
if not my hope.

Evening Reconciliation

O You, Great Power That breathes me,
To You I now give back my spirit for the night.
“As a weaned child on its mother’s lap”
I am quiet within me once again.
I fall asleep in your forgiving love.
I have played too much, naming play as “trouble,” “work;”
I tried too hard
Or not enough.
I chose, rejoiced, regretted.
You saw me through it all.
Please heal my mistakes,
Renew me for tomorrow,
Give me one more day.
You, in Whom I am a part –
O Source of my Existence-
Grant peaceful sleep
To this your small expression.

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