Praying in the mess

They’re building a new neighborhood next door.
My morning prayers on the porch are often accompanied
by rumbling and beeping and crashing and dust.
I pray anyway.
My morning walk now begins in a ruin
of scraped earth, mangled roots and machine tracks
before I reach the woods.
I walk anyway.
We’re always having to learn to be at peace amid chaos,
to be kind and patient when others are mean,
to be grateful amid disaster, to pray in the mess.
And the Divine One is always there.
In the destroyed meadow,
among the shattered stones and bulldozer treads
I find the tracks of birds.

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
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