The faint rustle
The first flutter
Something deep stirs
to send up
the palest yellow
To push down
a filament of root
into the dark loam
The new wants to be born
Lover of us All,
You see our hearts not our defects and limitations
Gentle my vision that I might see
The divine glow in each person
So that we connect human and divine.
God of November,
You teach us every year that beauty fades, fields go fallow,
Animals hibernate. The green dies as the cold settles in
And the light is short.
We need these lessons to remember that dying is necessary
For rebirth, that the quiet of winter restores the fields of our hearts.
We ask for the courage to let die all that we cling to
So that we are ready for all that is yet to come.
You have set in motion
A creation that gives us butterflies.
I ask to understand these dark times
As the inside of the chrysalis
While we await transformation
Because the darkness grows and we are afraid
We cling to evidence that metamorphosis is possible.