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We are born from the Spirit
speaking the language of God
in giggles and tears.
We are suns with orbiting moons.
Some remind us of our beauty
and our remarkable potential.
Others accompany us in our shining presence.
As we grow, we find ourselves human.
The soft animal of our bodies loves and craves.
Perhaps we hurl ourselves through a season in a hot red glare
flying like comets
and falling like stars.
In the atmosphere,
there is frozen air and expanding spaciousness.
Sometimes, it feels impossible to reproduce
the flames of our youth.

We find everything we were once sure of
now confuses us.
Our celestial garden changes its name.
We hoard the things that feel familiar
while making wishes on stars
and on birthday candles
and on pennies thrown quietly in fountains at the mall.
The world spirals on.
We grasp its tail and pull ourselves aboard.
We see the next bend in the cycle.
We find our way into a new normal.
Passions come and go.
Sometimes, they arrive again.
We crave love’s warmth so deeply
we forgive it when it burns.
We forget how to see ourselves the way God sees us.
We forget God…
and then we return to the center.
Sometimes, we do an excellent job of resting in divine love.
We feel… so… grateful.
Spirit finds us in our fire, and Spirit finds us in our frost.
Always, God is here
within us and all around us.
Sometimes, Creation finds us at birth and after each tiny death.
Genesis spins again.
We are recreated as we remember ourselves.
We weave our narratives into cloth,
draping the tapestry of our stories over our shoulders
like prayer shawls or capes.
We are individuals,
sustained by our families, communities, ancestors, and descendants.

We offer our living as libation.
We are the sky, and we are the Earth.
We are Light, and we are creatures.
We are suns in a community of stars.
We spin with Spirit.
Just over the hill of sleep
in the morning
we will rise
celebrating Creation
again
and again
and again.


For poetry and more, visit Mecella.

by Jesse White

Published on October 30, 2024