immaculate moment this
air, sky, all
this poem by Doris Peel so captures it:
Summoned by Psaltery, Timbrel, and Harp
It is not said
that mourning shall be turned into non-mourning:
a cessation of suffering, a merciful blank
like the aftermath of a crisis passed.
Nor is there promised
the prolonged privileges of a convalescent
who earns–by the mere feat of survival–the
flowers, the fruit, the ministrations of others.
it is dancing–
dancing–we are called to!
O summoned we are
(from the darkest depths)
to that act of gladness
that elated leap
even the new lamb, come to earth, straightway knows
how to perform: bounding up on stiff little legs
with no more reason for what it does
than the very joy,
still fresh in it,
what it is.
“Desire is prayer; and no loss can occur from trusting God with our desires, that they may be moulded and exalted before they take form in words and in deeds.” Mary Baker Eddy, Science and Health
“I know that, whatsoever God doeth, it shall be for ever: nothing can be put to it, nor any thing taken from it.” Ecclesiastes