Primitive religion is not believed, it is danced!

Arthur Darby Nock

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

Elizabeth Browning

Thursday, October 2, 2014

Gifts to be Given, Gifts to be Received

his recliner seems to have grown
my friend sits
covered with blankets

a small shape a fastness of faux leather

his thin hair is tasseled
and his eyes, once bright with hidden mirth
seem lifeless

he manages a small
toothless grin

we talk of inconsequential things
of books
and weather

and then slowly we slip into
steeper, deeper terrain
health and family
and yes life itself

to him his life is as frail and small
as his frame within that chair
and this once robust man sees only what he cannot do
and what he has lost

and I have little to offer
except a simple litany that came to me long ago
in a moment of despair

“there are gifts to be given
and gifts to be received”

and I tell him, “you are a gift”
and he smiles

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