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, November 12, 2020

Singing Songs of Love

It is the calm before the storm

or so I am told

by those who know such things


the wind will come

so too the rain (and sometimes snow)

and the trees will roar their complaint

even as the thirsty ground gives thanks


storms it seems, always come


sometimes we see them coming

as the clouds gather and the mountains hide

and the gray darkness

rolls across the valley


sometimes they catch us by surprise

and we are caught


and unprepared


so too the storms

that arise in our souls

that gather in our minds,

and roar through our hearts

shaking us to our core


sometimes we see them coming

sometimes we are caught by surprised


always, always

we are shaken


this is a time of storms

there are storms without


hurricanes of course

and winter’s assault

but also the storms of hate and greed

the chaotic tumult created by those who lust for power


the storms of falsehood

and cruelty

and manipulation


there are storms within

as we struggle with our fears

our desires

our prejudices


and when the storms meet


Sweet Jesus!


and so as we are blown this way and that

as we are buffeted and beaten

but those terrible winds

that come from the mountains and the mouths of men (and women)


we cry out

we reach out

we breathe

we center

we calm


and we keep going

left foot, right foot, left foot



and we find the eye of the storm

which is that which is Sacred

which is love


and we allow that calm to enter our hearts

we welcome that love into our hearts

our fragile but fertile hearts


in the midst of the storm

we stand

and sing

songs of love

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