Grace - Linda Hogan

[Lawrence Robinson]

Grace

 
Waking on the edge of morning, still dark, 
the owl speaks one last word, 
and I hear this world 
from the other side of daylight 
and go to sit at water, 
with great knowledge 
of the eloquent speeches 
water makes, watching for the trout 
in the next uplift from water, 
and hear the insects, 
their music great as any, 
meaningful as frogs before a rain. 
 
Then it comes, gentle rain. 
That is what makes for grace, 
and I can believe in such softness. 
None of the miseries of the world are meant for me, 
not this morning. 
If you ask each day, it will tell you that 
the continent is moist with multitudes of life 
beginning every moment.
 
While others gather their pieces of hurt, 
to tell their stories, 
I try to remember, none were meant for me, 
not this morning, 
not war, loss, death, not pain. 
In that first edge of morning, 
let’s embrace the birds, the air, the once again
world as it grows in this manner 
and, like us all, needs embraced 
for everything that has been hurt.

	- Linda Hogan