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