Poetry as Prayer


My morning ritual — reading and writing poetry has turned into a form of prayer for me. With the recent change of season, I had a lapse in this precious time. As the chilly air started settling in, I had to find a new space that called to me and allowed me to revel in my dream life just a bit longer. During this lapse, I found myself falling into old patterns. Going straight to my computer and getting sucked into the social media vortex. And with the aftermath of this horrific election, I decided I needed this time more than ever. So, I reset my intentions to picking up a book of poetry before I opened my computer, or writing down my dream before it vanished. I am so grateful for what comes out of this time.

Spirit move me,
like water
without force
yet carries
more power
than any mind
can conceive.

Remove the blinders,
that allow me
to continue

Paralyzed by
the hurts I see
separate in my mind
yet breaking my spirit.

We are crying for a vision.

Let’s all pray,
pay attention.

to the quiet nod from a dream,
the mysterious dance
that connects us
to the

an ancient knowing
that is waiting
to be heard.

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