Grace and Peace to you.
How can you not see it,
if you stand still enough,
or walk out far enough:
the light shimmering from every leaf,
the actual hardness of every stone?
This stone says something
of humility and presence,
of where it came from, and the belly of stars,
but it stays silent to draw you nearer.
We are, all of us, even the thin geranium
on the back stoop, reaching up
for light, for life, for beauty,
singing out with the great silent voice
of the immense glory of being,
the long, amazing story
and a love story it is.
Without your having to remember—
such a gift, such a gift—
your lungs open to the world
and take in life, each moment.
Who gave you that?
How can you not sing, even in silence?
When we grow afraid we forget,
we wear protective layers
of things to believe, things to do,
so many things to do,
so that we don’t come too near
and catch fire.