Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life March Challenge
Find more celebration posts at Ruth’s blog.
Holy Week always brings up for me a mixture of feelings. I feel a call to silent contemplation. Years ago I offered a Good Friday meditation. It originally came out of a prayer vigil from Maundy Thursday to Easter Sunday. I had signed up for the 6 AM time slot and was moved by the rising of the sun as I sat alone in the quiet church. We don’t have a vigil anymore, but the idea of sitting in quiet meditation early in the morning of Good Friday is still something I want to experience and share.
With four of us in the sanctuary, I read aloud Mary Oliver’s poem “I Happened to be Standing.” Mary Oliver is a favorite poet of mine. I love how simple and profound her poems are. I searched for this one. I remembered how it looked on the page, but I didn’t remember the title or which book it was published in. I located five of her books around my home, none of them placed together. Finally, A Thousand Mornings sang to me from the living room shelf, and there it was in all its humble glory.
I Happened to Be Standing
I don't know where prayers go,
or what they do.
Do cats pray, while they sleep
half-asleep in the sun?
Does the opossum pray as it
crosses the street?
The sunflowers? The old black oak
growing older every year?
I know I can walk through the world,
along the shore or under the trees,
with my mind filled with things
of little importance, in full
self-attendance. A condition I can't really
call being alive
Is a prayer a gift, or a petition,
or does it matter?
(Read and listen to the complete poem here.)
As I sat, I recalled Psalm 22 from the Maundy Thursday stripping of the altar. I wanted to respond to this psalm with my own psalm. I wrote:
Deus, Deus meus
My God, my God, why have you forgiven me?
The toll of the cardinal song
echoes You are my child.Long ago, I carried a child in my own womb
felt her heart beat with mine,
felt the soft body roll inside.Is this how you love me, God?
I held the hand of his father
as he passed into your light.
I let go of his quiet strength.Is this how you love me, God?
When I think on these things,
I can know kindness.
I can hear stillness in the noise.
I can feel love in the bird’s song.When you are near me, God,
My soul lives for you.–Margaret Simon (c) 2018
Happy, Happy Easter! May you find joy in the quiet and love in the sounds of the birds!
Reflections on the Teche 