A poem, by Jenneth Graser —
Silence beckons to us first thing,
ascending in the pre-dawn mist
on the call of animals
that can sense day is coming.
We wait until we feel the invitation
to approach first light
with the prayers we have kept for the earth.
We drift each benediction into sky,
out of reach of gravity.
Our prayers spread out over the
and enfold the people waiting
for answers from the firmament.
Our prayers swirl out of the Milky Way
and head on through stars into heavenly realms,
as incense carried through angel’s feathers
and inhaled into God’s very nostrils.
Each star pales and then we cannot see the stars
anymore, but that doesn’t mean they are not there.
We come upon the sun as our planet turns
by degree into the movements of a day.
The moon hugs the earth with swivelled bliss,
and lingers over the horizon.
Our souls reach far beyond the confines of our bodies
into the places banquet feasts are thrown
for the ones that have gone ahead.
Spirit mentions each of us by name
in a language meant for the time
Babel crumbles into dust and we are able
to look at each other, and finally understand.