Small Gods

For fifty years and more

I refrained from using that word

(with or without an upper-case G).

For me it evoked a childhood

of propaganda and rote prayers.

And now, aware of Spirit and the Universe

and the comforting, hovering ancestors,

I still find other words.

Not that words are needed, of course.

 

We pray without words

when we attend to moments, to trees,

to others, to our own awareness.

We pray, in short, as we live our lives

and know that we are here on this beautiful Earth.

We pray in the spirit of the rock,

the woven fabric, the spun yarn,

the kiln-baked brick, the brick-baked bread.

 

 

 

Copyright © Ann Tudor
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