Prayer flags hang over our doorway,
over our table, over us.
They don’t wave far above us in the wind,
But they flicker wildly in my heart,
tabernacle candles announcing Christ’s presence,
St. Joseph votives streaming to God unceasing.
My scrawled hand, the babies’ scribbles, and our guests’ script
decorate those paper flags
and they haven’t changed since Eastertide a year ago.
The arching twine is filled with petition, praise, thanksgiving,
with begging, confidence, joy, and love,
and those flags wait, and they do not cease waiting ~
they are all unanswered, even the answered ones.
Come comfort this hurried heart
with love and kindness
this tired heart
with quick forgiveness
this beating heart
with solid restfulness;
uncover the pricelessness
beneath these worthless days
beneath these screams and shouts;
show me green shoots sprouting
through this drenched earth,
massive oaks and maples,
beech trees popping newborn leaves
into this rain-soaked air.
I slip too-small clothes into
white plastic bags marked with
age and size in black ink and knot their
red ties closed while my life changes
in an instant, in one long instant.
Come comfort this quiet heart
and hear its song, inaudible to me.
I am packed in, tight.
Hundreds of red seeds surround.
Yet I am alone.