Rev. Diane Rollert, 17 February 2019
Each morning I rise to wonder
at the day.
The sun streaks across the horizon
in bands of rose-coloured light,
fingertips reaching to touch
This is the early morning prayer
I write each day.
Ice and snow bar the door.
Our passage through this world
is interlaced, lifted up and limited
by the things we hold too dear,
by the stories we write for ourselves,
that become intrenched
in our hearts,
until the narrative is lost
and only the feelings remain.
Source of love,
unknown weavers of this life,
may we be like the youngest child,
with a mind open in curiosity,
living in the moment,
revelling in fascination
with the way
the smallest things work,
willing to try again and again
to embrace what isn’t yet known.
May we judge ourselves less harshly.
May we turn around the anger and hurt
into forgiveness for ourselves,
May we welcome
gentle understanding and gratitude,
as they arrive,
in the silence.