In the Arms of the Deep

     We are the secret radical hopers

gathering dreams in our nets and letting them go

in the same liminal moment.

 

Our ship has rudder and sails

but they are useless when the sea is stacked

so tall against us.  Still, we must move on.

 

Love comes in with the tide

but we, the explorers, cannot predict when

or from where it flows, not by moon-clock,

not by the hidden language of our bodies or stars,

 

but by its own curious compulsions.

Sometimes we are lifted light as foam on

the crest of life.  Sometimes we are night’s own anchor.

Sometimes we are lost at sea, praying like a jellyfish on the strand,

crying out for saltwater solace in the arms of the deep.

 

J. Pratt-Walter, (c) 2020

Fallen Prayer

In the morning my prayer was a small earthworm stranded

in night’s dew on an unforgiving path.

Knees bent, I tenderly placed him in wet soil, my Amen.


At midday my prayer was the tumbled willow by the stream, still

unfurling her wands and catkins in long graceful whips.

I marveled at how the weather wove her patterns into my Amen.


Near dark my prayer was an injured thrush rolling in fright

in the brush.  She scolded me as I turned her over,

seeking the injury.  Maybe both a wing

and a leg were broken.  She could not stay upright, she could not

rest.  I contemplated taking her home, putting her in a box

with water and soft grasses, feeding her the worms. 


She watched me sideways then

partly closed her pale eyelids from the bottom up.

Her pulse was a thin vibration, her breathing a tangle.

I set her gently at the base of the fallen willow, covered her

with the kind grasses and walked away.  I have not yet found

an Amen. 


J. Pratt-Walter (c) 2020

To Mother Earth, Alleluia

Dear Mother Earth

Someday our souls will slip from life

like water off a swan

and I say Alleluia.

They say this is your day,

Earth Day

but I know each moment,

they all belong to you

and I say Alleluia.

Oh Earth, I feel the sharp song

of our connection. I feel

the spear of your heartache

and hurt, I feel green everything,

green-blue, green-gold, green-black.

Everything is alive all in

a tumble of miracles

and I say Alleluia.

And now, Holy Earth,

I see it:  our ways must cease.

We must surrender, closing eyes

and giving breath over to you,

always only you

and I say Alleluia.

J. Pratt-Walter, (c) 4/22/2020

50^th Anniversary of Earth Day