The river doesn’t know how to be a river.
The bird doesn’t have to write a song.
The candle only needs a wick.
The wire that brings the voice of your grandmother
to your hungry ears does not know your grandmother,
does not know her voice, or the way she says the word precious.
The heart does not begin to know the love of God,
only opens to it,
holds the space.
We do not know how to pray as we ought,
but the Spirit prays in us
with sighs too deep for words.
July 22, 2020