BOOK OF HOURS/6:00a.m.
“I’ve learned that people will forget what
you said, people will forget what you did,
but people will never forget how you
made them feel.”
Oh, that we could stay right here.
Please…look at the sky, its colors…
Who spilled the paint cans in such divine wonders?
How did pink merge into orange, and soft yellows
gather beside violet and blue?
We are moving. I drag my feet in the soil wishing
this hour eternal. Why? Look, look, can you not
see the beauty? The Artist’s easel—filled with endless pastels!
You are laughing at me, again. No matter how many times
I’m awake at this moment, I’m like a new born
splashing from its mother’s womb. It is a new day,
another dawning inviting us to believe in a world
untouched, expanding, growing, blossoming, dying—yes,
ending to fall back into the earth and rise again…Resurrection.
My prayer is a color wheel spinning round and round…
Dabs of green, deep browns…and
I kick off my shoes, my feet run across jagged rocks…I am not harmed.
I slide down a waterfall—I am soaked, praying I
never dry. I breathe, I go under. Wait, I am still
Breathing! I am not holding my breath. You take my hand,
my left hand, Spirit holds on to my right hand. You both become wings. My body,
a temple–the center
we fly…this hour, we fly to greet what
will impregnate this dawn.
Pray with me in this hour.
7:00 a.m. will arrive next Monday—
Promise you will stay, invite another!
No worry if you pass! I hold you in all the hours remaining.