The Contemplative

The Contemplative: Teach me to sing, St. Therese.

Let joy flow through me, or suffering.
A wave that cannot be turned back.
Until all is forgotten,
and All is remembered.

See what the tide may bring.
There’s something to keep for another day.
The Spirit, a wind that cannot be contained.
The spirit, with a child’s eager feet.

One that stirs up joy, and deposits it like shells
along the shore. One that runs to find the treasures
before they are carried away.

This is not a joy that says I will not suffer another day.
Nor dances like a hedonist.
Nor shouts at fear and says you will not come again to this place.

She is a child’s soul, a new bride’s soul,
that acts in joy,
embraces peace, and says to suffering,
you must come again for a visit.
I will let you in.
And I will find joy even then.

Because all is grace. . .

-D.E.B. (copyright 2009)