Good Things

God of
vegetables
and yellow leaves in the air,
you have given us enough.
There is enough
for everyone, even for those
who die from too little,
because you have made
even death
good.
You bring us,
if we would go,
from a pure heart,
to a growing heart,
to a pure heart.

God who
has hands all marked with work,
you have enough time.

You are a deep sea, deep enough
for peace under any wind.

I stretch like the leaves;
I follow your sustenance.
You are vitamins, you are molten core,
you are flint and secret ocean floor.
You are language, you’re the kiss,
you’re the one who walks in dreams.

I add my off-pitch notes
with the monks in their hoods,
cold cheeks and warmth in their chests,
to the morning mass woman,
old and regular, aching knees,
tongue stretched out for the host.
To the tree black crows in a yellow tree,
your harsh prophets.
To the maple leaf high in a grey sky,
before it goes to rest.
God, you are enough.

written by Katie Gorrie

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