The balances are delicate;
striking and tipping and
striking and falling
in deep enough to keep waiting,
living for the moments
we are each other’s counter weight,
each other’s perch,
each other’s harmony
and song of songs
when devotion sings
and selflessness outweighs pride,
humility offsets righteousness
and we sync ourselves to
the striking balance of delight,
the just weights of sacrifice.
We are caught inside this swath of love
this massive yoking
where we love one and are all-loving,
this massive yoking
where we love all and are love’s focusing.
Christ’s mystery and enigma,
this yoking love, this kingdom becoming.
But in moments beneath love’s canopy
when rain falls for the thirsty and light shines for the hungry,
ice cracks brutal over the cold and heat scorches dry over the brittle.
So we walk under blue skies and dark ceilings,
through fresh breezes and dusty drafts.
We know the burdening yoke and its blessings,
the rough harness and its relief.
These are our joys and challenges,
the balance of a life,
the yoga of loving.
Oh, that we would have eyes to see and ears to hear,
hearts to love and hearts to be loved,
for in you all things are light.
Inspired by Pope Francis and Fr. Beaver’s calls for Christian unity, and by Jason Gray’s “With Every Act of Love.”
I hear the silence pop out of nothing.
The baby gulps his water with determined breath
beside me on the floor.
He eats only my breakfast from my plate
resting on my lap when I finally spread the blanket
and bring my coffee to the ground.
I listen to the crunch of toasted rye
and watch the caraway seeds drop,
see the bacon’s burnt edges coat his hands.
In a world where everything is within reach,
solitude and quiet float like monarchs in late spring,
bright, startling, luxurious, allusive.
I forget to look for them, yet am always scrambling to find them,
and here on this blanket we are alone together with only the sounds of our living.
Sip. Gulp. Chew. Swallow.
You scootch close so that our legs touch, rest your hand on my thigh, press your head to my side.
You’ve been with me twenty-three months though I feel you are visiting, flashing a rascal’s smile as you turn the bend.
I am guard, guide, confidant and safe-keeper, and you are charge, protegé, secret-teller and limit-pusher.
I search for the counterweight to the days.
One brick balancing fifty pebbles.
A shovel-full of time lifting a multitude of moments.