Sister Alma Rose Prays the Lord’s Prayer

Cosmos in Sister Alma Rose’s flower garden

Father-Mother, One Creator,

Fount of Everlasting Bliss,

Refreshment, Breath of Inspiration,

which, to take, is to inhale the scent

of innocence from Heaven’s garden:

Holy is your name, not to be spoken idly,

lest we try to  circumscribe your mystery,

when all that is required—enough for

now—is to reach out and touch the hem

of Glory as it passes by.

Until the day we see you face to face,

and understanding dawns, sufficient

for the hour is Grace; and may we know

by faith that to accept abundance, pouring-out

of love, is to embrace the wealth of spirit,

joy unmerited and favor, our inheritance

unearned.

Walk with us, ye saints and angels blessed

with intimate acquaintance of the Holy One,

and not as we, unseeing, blinded by the sun

that would deprive us of the visible. O God,

we seek your kingdom. Guide us when we

cannot read the signs that mark the homeward

pathways; steer us toward the single destination;

give us patience for the waiting; turn our hearts

toward those among our fellow travelers

who fail to notice that the way itself is

studded with the riches of the holy realm.

And when we are diverted by a pretty road

that leads to nowhere, show us what small

treasure it conceals, some baguettelle

that serves as currency, to trade in time

for greater wealth, not to be hoarded.

We are meant to travel light, for if we show

the tokens we have gathered, as if they had

native value, not derived from holy purpose,

some will steal them, some deceived as

we have been. Then should we not forgive,

and pity victims of deception, lured, like us,

by flickering and shiny surfaces, as if

a firefly could show us what might lie

around the turning?

Your true light alone, O God, burns

to illuminate and not devour, and

what we find in it is everlasting. Keep us

fast upon the guarded path and ignorant

of fervent summons called in ignorance,

or fear, or malice. Teach us, God, to hear

your voice amid the shrill or subtle

sound and fury. Every choice creates

a future—never, though, beyond redeeming.

Shall we suffer needlessly, inflicting pain,

deflected from our calling, kept from

Heaven by the specious gleam

of something stolen from a cave,

believing it will save our souls? Or

shall we claim—instead of gold, and

pleasure for an hour—enlightenment,

love for each other, Spirit’s treasure,

perfect power? God, you are our hearts’

desire. Hold us close today and all

of our tomorrows.

Amen.

…in the filtered sunlight