A Poem About Transformation

Coming to God: First Days

Lord, what shall I do that I

can’t quiet myself?

Here is the bread, and

here is the cup, and

I can’t quiet myself.

To enter the language of transformation!

To learn the importance of stillness,

  with one’s hands folded!

When will my eyes of rejoicing turn peaceful?

When will my joyful feet grow still?

When will my heart stop its prancing

   as over the summer grass?

Lord, I would run for you, loving the miles for your sake.

I would climb the highest tree

to be that much closer.

Lord, I will learn also to kneel down

into the world of the invisible,

the inscrutable and everlasting.

Then I will move no more than the leaves of a tree

   on a day of no wind,

bathed in light,

like the wanderer who has come home at last

and kneels in peace, done with all unnecessary things;

every motion; even words.

Mary Oliver, from Thirst

Thank you, Melody, for sending me this.