Day 3
a poem a day keeps us from dying inside
Day Three: Sacred
Sacredness is born
before we are,
and I think
it always existed
as their full self
(is sacred a noun or an adjective?
is it a being or a thing?
is it everything all at once?)
The moment we are born,
we meet The Sacred,
and live our lives
weaving in and out
of connection,
listening sometimes,
as sacredness
calls us to itself,
calls us to Themselves,
calls us to ourselves,
calls us to each other,
calls us,
forever,
and ever
and ever,
Home.
Sacred is the stars
And the fingertips that reach out
Trying to hold them
Peering up, whispering
“Do I matter?”
Sacred is the Space
That exists outside measures
Where They whisper back
Speaking gently to the stars
And the fingertips grasping
“Yes. Because you are.”
It was a sacred rain
I walked through
Even though I was
Getting wet and cold
It was a sacred rain
But not for the homeless
Or the hopeless
Just wet and dreary.
It was a sacred rain
It came from the source
Of all being
And it was necessary
For there to be life
At the bus stop someone
Shared their umbrella
With a stranger.
In the sacred rain
There was a sacred space