I don’t have to save, but I can attend.
To protect the tender ones,
heal the wounded, vindicate the gentle,
or to disturb or make righteous noise,
I am able, with what I have.
My despair (how the Emperor counts on it!)
wants me to believe I lack the power.
But what I am given is enough.
As among daffodils that brighten the hillside
in late spring snow or freezing rain,
miraculous powers are already granted.
Busy as Martha or still as Mary,
even the smallest butterfly-wing muscle
of compassion is all I am called to use.
No one knows the power of small acts
or stillness,
the millions holding the world together
by the thread of their prayers.
This world is not aching for superheroes,
but roadside daffodils.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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