poems of spirit and faith

Today I haven’t got the energy to give thanks

the will to meditate

the patience to pray

the energy to dance or sing or speak

I don’t feel like being in the present

or acknowledging the spirit

or following a path to anywhere

I’ll just sit

and breathe

maybe sleep a little

and let go

of tangled thoughts and

needing to say or do or be anything

I’ll just be

being and breathing

that’s my sacred space today

  © Bronwyn Angela White (2008)—Wellington, New Zealand

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 New Zealand License

I’m thankful that the food’s okay

wild weather can’t reach me in here

and my feet are warm.

Outside the sun gets on with shining

the wind blows, soft or fierce, to suit the day

the sky selects a colour

from its palette of blue and grey

and the noise of kids after school

is cheerful, but far enough away.

I’m thankful there’s a friend nearby

—or at least, an acquaintance:

we might become friends

for ever or ‘til Tuesday; it depends

and—if no-one’s pinched them from the drawer—

I’ve still got my marbles

‘though if I need a rest, I might pretend

to lose them occasionally…

and I’m smart enough to fall only a little in love

with the doctor.

And in this quiet space I think about the past

remember someone special—lover or partner or friend—

and there’s no need to cry that it ended:

there’s space for them, now, in my head

and there’s time, so anyone I’ve loved

can sit on the edge of the bed

share jokes and memories

no-one else can hear

I’m wise enough to know that they won’t care

if I’m wearing my best lingerie

or my comfy dressing gown

And if I want

to sing like a bird, it’ll be a lark—

or maybe I’ll squawk like a magpie, or screech like a hawk

and give thanks on the wing

for this day; this precious, ordinary thing

© Bronwyn Angela White (2008)—Wellington, New Zealand

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 New Zealand License