It is a ritual as holy and sacred to me as
raising bread and wine.
More relevant than any church service.
Dare I say this?
As a child I would rush out of church
and into the fields, away from the crowds
where God’s voice beckoned to me
I basked in the glory of Her creations
I quit speaking of this by second grade
where I sat preparing for first communion
learning the difference between us and them.
Them was everyone else but us who gathered in the pews on Sunday morning.
Them were the heretics, the pagans, those that dared to hear God
in the whispers of pines and robin song.
Whose every action was a prayer to the Divine.
Fearing rejection, I buried my passion deep inside me.
Alas, it would not be contained.
She entices me every spring
as the equinox ascends
I cannot resist the impulse to place my hands in the soil and,
working water into dry earth, she awakens
I smell Her quickening
My heart swoons.
I pour the
Life of endless ages into my hand.
This is as natural for me
as the rising and setting of the sun.
The stark emptiness of winter
The Great Rest, has passed.
I feel the life pulsing from the seeds
through my fingertips
to my soul.
I remember the time
when I walked among the tomatoes
that rose like trees around me.
This is my Heaven.
The winter of my life
was spent in a tiny office
working on other people’s visions, always thinking,
Do I have a respectable career?
Do I make enough?
Is my house in the right neighborhood?
Is it big enough?
Am I enough?
This was my death.
I choose Life outside of this closet,
this box of conventionality.
I dig my hands into the mud and let it ooze between my fingers.
I wear purple and orange
and socks that don’t match.
I burst into song for no reason at all
and have heartfelt conversations with the bees.
My elder years are not the winter of my days
but a returning to spring
And if I allow my passion to direct me
as it did as a child
then I enter the Eternal Wellspring
where every seedling speaks to me of the fervency of the Divine,
every morsel of food a Holy gift
every action, a sacrament
I am in the arms of my Beloved, again
I have found my way back home…