Thursday, January 10

Feast

Make each movement a prayer, each breath
an exaltation to the God that swells within you.
It doesn't matter if your God has no name,
you know it.

When you touch the one who makes your heart sing
let love ooze from the tips of your fingers,
drip from the corner of your eye like a savory tear
sliding down your cheek.

Reach gently for the next thing,
as if caressing the essence of life.
Land softly on your spongy soul,
feel it bounce with joy.

This moment...
it's what you’ve been given.
This moment...
it's what you live in.

Feast.

4 comments:

jo said...

I really liked this a lot. Ooze away

Deb Moore said...

This moved me. I'm pasting it to me refrigerator, with your permission. Masterful.

Deb Moore said...

MY refrigerator.

Texas2Tennessee said...

Deb, I'm honored this poem will hang on your refrigerator. Thank you.