HOLY REST
Abbott Benedict hunches over his desk,
scribing 73 rules for monks,
beginning with the word,
“listen.”
The Abbess Petunia rolls over,
reclines and dreams the word,
“surrender.”
When we grant ourselves holy rest,
wisdom settles on us like dust between breezes.
The stillness that lies between our breaths,
gives our oblate hearts precious time to love.
Abbott Benedict hunches over his desk,
scribing 73 rules for monks,
beginning with the word,
“listen.”
The Abbess Petunia rolls over,
reclines and dreams the word,
“surrender.”
When we grant ourselves holy rest,
wisdom settles on us like dust between breezes.
The stillness that lies between our breaths,
gives our oblate hearts precious time to love.
(poem inspired by photograph provided by Christine Valters Paintner @ abbeyof thearts.com Visit Christine's website and join the Poetry Party every other Monday.)
posted by Pilgrim Path | 10:28 AM
1 Comments:
hey rich, for some reason my previous comment didn't go through. Love this poem, eachstanza is like a world unto itself linked by poetry. Thanks for your beautiful contribution.
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