How can I speak of prayer?
It has so many textures, moods and movements,
it defies the words I seek to pin it down.
It is need expressing,
It is the soaring as the spirit takes flight,
the crescendo of abandoned praise,
the struggle of bewildered pain,
the stillness of eternity.
It is a groaning and a yearning,
a whisper and a shouting.
It is a hammering on a brassy heaven,
a grasping for the hem of his garment,
a gazing on the face of love.
It is the keening cry of grief outpoured
and the faint whimper in the dark.
It is a stirring in the depths of being,
a shaking of fists, of heart, of life.
It is a teetering on the edge of an abyss,
a seed of hope flung into the vastness of space,
a sinking into the everlasting arms of love.
It is a showing up and being there,
a waiting and a trusting,
a holding and a letting go -
hidden under the shadow of his wings.
It is a stripping, a revealing,
an exposing, an unveiling,
- standing naked before the one who sees
and knows and understands.
It is an unmaking and a recreating.
It is a skipping and a jumping,
a dancing and a weaving,
a sharing and a giving,
an offering of all of life within the life of God.
It is stillness and safety.
It is a breath, a heartbeat,
Love pulsing from the source of life
and pumping through my veins.
It is a turning and a touching
- a life-giving revolution,
an encounter, a connection
with the living God.
It is a movement to the heart of heaven,
wherein lies the hope for earth.