God, I confess
I’m in a hurry, so I mass produce my life.
I’ve sent you a lot of junk mail.
I live an entire day as a form letter.
Most of my deepest thoughts I’ve outsourced.
It’s all automated. Robots. Saves me time.
So much of what I say to people is autofill.
It’s awkward sometimes, but close enough.
I say I have you on speed dial, but
I don’t know your number.
Wouldn’t recognize your voice,
since I do all the talking, then hang up.
I get impatient if you don’t offer overnight shipping.
I’m in a hurry.
God, slow me down.
Give me the grace of reverence,
to live at a pace of awe and attentiveness.
Patient as a monk, a shadow, a bee.
I want to be present. Here. Now.
Let me be a lake still enough
to reflect the beauty around me.
Without knowing what’s next, or needing to.
For you, who create this day for me,
may my living it be handcrafted, fermented,
reverently, at the speed of delight.
May I be present.
September 19, 2019