A Wishing Prayer

Even if I never write again
past this moment
it is at God’s pleasure
that I wish to serve.

I read that Mother Theresa
thought of herself as a little pencil
that God moved as he liked.
I can offer my own little will
to God’s and he can move
my pencil as he likes.
I will not worry
about what comes out
and God can reveal himself
in whatever way pleases him.

Even if no one ever sees it
or ever reads it
I will write.
And even if my writing
never changes anyone
it will always change me.


Every Song a Poem

Poems are meanings,
attempts at meaning-making,
successes and failures and in-betweens.

Sometimes we are alone.
Sometimes we hear our children
use phrases like, “outside of Time and Space.”
These kinds of poems talk about life and its
songs, our anthems, laments, and jubilations.

They are creations and we are creators.
God is Poet, ever-present, ever-creating
meaning-maker.   And this, another ars poetica.

But it never tires of me, poetry.  Nor I of it.
Nor God of me.  Nor I of God.

An Ars Poetica

You are my gift, dear poem,
you are like my breath; you wake me,
and sing me to sleep.

You are my gift, dear poetry,
you are like my life’s blood; you energize me
and carry me on.

You are my gift, dear writing,
you are like my body; you move me
and support my soul.

You are my gift, dear Giver of gifts,
you are the Poet; you create
and you keep on creating.