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Sunday, July 24, 2016

On a Sunday in Summer

On a sunny, summer Sunday,
I throw on my cleanest finery,
which, as it turns out,
doesn’t have much to say for itself.
It’s fine, though, I’m still up for listening,
headed to one of my safe places,
the most spiritual of spaces,
seeking some joyful calm,
a message of balm,
leaving struggle at the door,
feeling peace, and what’s more,
finding a non-anxious presence
in an anxious world,
hearing that still, small voice,
its beauty unfurled.

It’s Sunday at Seaside,
where love and good and light,
are real in our life,
just as real as toil and strife,
where “effortless effort”
is written in invisible ink
on our nonexistent name tags.
There’s music and prayer and meditation,
a break from the madness, a soulful vacation.

I have no name for the effect,
but I do know what to expect.
Others will speak, I will listen,
and an unseen current
will course through me,
and I will see
that change is challenging
but hope is tangible,
and grace is possible.

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