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Sacred Sensing

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The form of this poem didn't quite develop as I anticipated. I was seeking to hold together the concept of God as utterly other though immanent in his creation, utterly present in our senses and incarnate in Jesus who shares in our stories. I hope it effectively conveys the idea that prayer need not involve closing your eyes or trying to shut out oral and other sensory distractions.

I open my eyes to colour and light:
blooms, feathers, leaves and patterns in trees 
gossamer webs and intricate insects
on the move, ants scurry as people hurry
busy as bubbling becks. Then comes the night
with points of light and secrets of shadows.

I listen, attending to whispers of wind, 
the sound of the sea, of shore scouring foam, 
the joy of birdsong, buzzing and barking,
tools and machines, intrusions of traffic,
rhythms and tunes, voices of friends, of kin.
Then stillness, time for resting and dreams.

Aroused: aware of tips of me tingling,
senses awake to stimulus of taste, 
to tenderness of touch. With heart hungry
for meaning – to discern hurts and delights, 
learning through sharing, with stories to weave,
creating a narrative that is my life.

I sense as if Jesus walks alongside,
as if his stories with mine now collide
then interweave, as I seek the Sacred,
with narrative still to be drafted.
On this meeting with mystery I ponder
the Divine, alive with hope and wonder.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

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