Now before the morning light appears;
now in calm anticipation;
now this sacred, still, unmeasured
interval I dedicate to thee.
Wherever are revived the dying,
comforted the grieving, given
hope the flagging spirits, raised
the fallen, fed the hungry souls;
Wherever life begins again,
where nothing is impossible,
and where the very sun is robed
and vested; where the angels from
their rest arise;
Where all are baptized in the freshet, pure emerging,
venom banished in ignominy and washed away;
Where common things become a garden,
radiant with color, light, and form;
Where light is born;
Where all the universe declares benevolent intent;
Where music out of silence grows,
where all from nothing comes and
all that ends begins:
Carry me, O Father-Mother God,
to this enchanted shore, that I as well may be
reborn and dwell in innocence again.
Thine angels send among
the suffering. Where they are fragile,
make them strong; where broken,
make them sound; their pain assuage,
evaporate, distill. Thine all-annealing love
bestow, and where it finds a cold, unyielding
heart, thy shining grace impart, to melt
the very stones that guard the hermit’s
door, that light may enter and embrace.
God, where glory lives, accept
our weary selves, complete us. Open
our insensate eyes, that we might recognize
the riches we possess, and the provision
we require – before us now, already ours;
all beauty at our feet, all sound by heaven’s
choir made crystalline; all that is lovely, seen,
recalled; and all abundance – everything
we need and more, beyond the sum
of ancient dreams and unfulfilled desires.
—from Unfamiliar Territory, by Mary Campbell, http://stores.lulu.com/zgravmary
Sister Alma Rose Has the Last Word 