Into the deep

These are the quiet quiet days
of entering into the deep.

Splash down into the center of the
blue embossed clay bowl
brimming with baptismal waters
pouring over and pooling:
"You are mine."

Drink to the dreamers
and the dead
and the devoted.
Raise your wine, toast
the creativity of the saints:

Saint Francis
and the beasts,
Saint Samuel (the lesser)
and his ten month old wrinkled-nose giggles
Saint Daniel, Saint Nancy,
Saint Marygrace, Saint Alison,
Saint Mark, Saint Mary,
Saint Anyone Who Needs Prayer.

Splash down into a thick mug of
rich cream and coffee,
smooth floral tea,
Diet Coke, apple juice,
craft beer, red wine, whiskey, gin,
whatever it is that nourishes your soul,
quenches you,
gives you both grace and motivation,
comfort and inertia.

Step softly now into this river
of the gathered beloved holy.
Pick up your feet from the rocky bottom
and ride on the rapids
of God's past present future.

These are baptismal waters and birthing waters,
twisting whirlpools of tears,
torrents of justice rolling down,
Noah's thunderstorm,
the emerald river of life.

Today is one quiet day, and tomorrow another.
Let us drown in the cover of the deep,
let us hide out and swim along
in these rivers and pools and channels,
sprung from eternity past,
rising waters moving toward some
holy eternal end.

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