My voice is silent today. I listen and I discern on the next right steps to take.
I was in The Respect Institute of Georgia from Monday through yesterday.
Graduation is today.
Sitting in this place, then, I give you a poem by a favorite poet Laureate, Mary Oliver:
After Her Death
I am trying to find the lesson
for tomorrow. Matthew something.
Which lectionary? I have not
forgotten the Way, but, a little,
the way to the Way. The trees keep whispering
peace, peace, and the birds
in the shallows are full of the
bodies of small fish and are
content. They open their wings
so easily, and fly. It is still
I open the book
which the strange, difficult, beautiful church
has given me. To Matthew. Anywhere.
by Mary Oliver