Each Little Breath

Each year on Maundy Thursday,
we read the mandate to love.
Each year when we read the text,
I realize I am not any closer
to loving you
than I was the year before.

Outside, wind whips my hair
across my face,
but my hair is not long.
I have not poured
perfume over your feet,
or dried your feet
with my hair.

Though, in my way of thinking,
we love with each little breath:
the way the bird dips his wings in the air,
or the way the mother washes her child.
The way trees grow towards the light
even as interwoven branches conspire to block it.

It’s what we do without thinking that defines us:
The straight tree coiled into a nest,
Peter’s foot balanced
in Jesus’ hand.

But late last summer,
once the fledglings
emptied from the nest,
the wind shook the nest
to the ground,
and when I held the nest
in cupped hands,
I saw strands of my hair
wound tightly, coiled
and interwoven
into the hollow

wherein eggs had hatched.

1 Comment

Leave a Comment

  1. Love this…

    Joanne – – – – – – – – – John & Joanne Gray 2700 Vista Grande Dr. NW, #22, Albuquerque, NM 87120

    Quote of the month: If our love of God does not directly influence, and even change, how we engage in the issues of our time on this earth I wonder what good religion is. –Father Richard Rohr

    And all will be well…and every kind of thing will be well.

    –Julian of Norwich



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