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A Prayer

October 17, 2012

I found paradise on a tawny hill run long and wild

with thigh high grasses, the twisting arcs

of ancient oak silhouettes bearing

fat green acorns, wedded two to the stem.

The spreading branches offered themselves,

moss-blanketed, for the kind of deep rest

that only comes from watching the great procession

of the sky—the first blaze of Venus,  the crescent moon

winging east to west, and finally the blue trails

of flaming meteorites. Oh to be fed by dusk,

high midnight, the dark before dawn,

then first light as the sky turns inside out

once again to show us what it means

to be born in ecstasy. I slept with nothing

between my heart and this rooted ground

and fertile heaven, not even the shield of fear

to keep me from knowing this trembling union

where all doors are flung open.

How prayers of gratitude tumble

from this awe, water this soil,

nourish the very earth that calls us

to our knees to remember the taste

of our own true belonging.


©Laura Weaver, October 2012

5 Comments leave one →
  1. October 17, 2012 1:10 pm

    You are becoming even MORE brilliant. Is this possible?
    Of course!

  2. jenny permalink
    October 17, 2012 2:33 pm

    There is a beingness in your poem that does not allow me to be numb or trivial today but to be grateful, awake, and notice nature’s honest effortless messages.

  3. October 17, 2012 2:39 pm

    beautiful and visually rich – I can picture you lying under the stars, watching the night pass. love this poem and love the place you describe…the thigh high golden grass, the double acorns…bliss.

  4. Pam Hale Trachta permalink
    October 17, 2012 4:25 pm

    I am teary. What a beautiful poet you are. Perfect timing. I’ll read it to the group tonight, as we explore safe landing spaces.

    Great love and admiration.

  5. Pam Hale Trachta permalink
    October 18, 2012 11:30 pm

    Everyone loved this last night in the group. Thank you and safe journey! Hugs to Nina too.


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