A Prayer of Praise
O Lord, I want to say,
“You are the warp and woof of my being.” You are; but you are not. You are warp and woof and yarn spun from shorn plant or animal. You are nurturing pasture and sunlight and rain and soil and shit and silent earthworm tilling beneath it all. You are loom born of woodworker or machinist dully chewing his cud in the corner of the shop. And you are weaver, product of endless genealogic struggle to simply survive, weaving with invisible energy exploding from chemical comingling of a diner’s lunch served by the pregnant girl with insouciant grace of clueless youth. You are all—warp and woof and loom and weaver and invisible energy weaving all together. Altogether you are. ©Tess Lockhart, all rights reserved. February 2018 |