Poetry Friday

A prayer for when we have come to the end of our own resources

We struggle, we grow weary, we grow
We are exhausted, we are distressed, we despair.
We give up, we fall down, we let go.
We cry.
We are empty, we grow calm, we are ready.
We wait quietly.
A small, shy truth arrives.
Arrives from without and within.
Arrives and is born.
Simple, steady, clear.
Like a mirror, like a bell, like a flame.
Like rain in summer.
A precious truth arrives and is born within
Within our emptiness.
We accept it, we observe it, we absorb it.
We surrender to our bare truth.
We are nourished, we are changed.
We are blessed.
We rise up.
For this we give thanks.

Text by Michael Leunig.
A Common Prayer.