The Prayer

All my life,

I’ve been praying,

Something I have not allowed

Myself to see

Until now.

For the caterpillar,

So that it could become

That most magnificent creature

Capable of flight.

For the sun-scorched grasses,

So that it may

Return to that holiest of green.

With the riot of flowers

Peppering lawns and fields

With reminders

Of what is possible

When we notice,

And even when we don’t.

With the cycles themselves,

The snow sitting heavily

On hidden ice,

The worms coming through

The pavement in spring.

The crickets,

Giving us our late summer hymn,

The fading leaves of fall.

I’ve been praying

With the trees,

Who were born into psalm,

And are unwavering

In their prayer for us,

That we, too,

Can find our way

To withstand the hurt,

Brush past our denial,

And breathe the good air

That is left

So that we may give back

The promise of tomorrow.

I have been praying,

Small as a scampering squirrel

Running between the shrubs

Dividing households

With no sense of borders,

Knitting together a world.

I have been lovingly

In the throes of creation

Praying one word, one stich

At a time,

As possibilities arise.

I have let the sun

And moonlight bathe me,

Oceans take me,

And every submersion

Into what sustains me

Has been a prayer of gratitude

And belonging, and love.

And faith.

For we are here,

Imbued with great power,

And prayer has always had

The answers.

  • Tammy Stone Takahashi

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