Spiritual poems and ponderings


Our Godde Who Is Not Afraid Of The Dark

Sunday morning in November,
Three seats along from mine
Your arm is a pattern of overlapping
Red crescent moons
Even though your nails look too short to make a mark
Please Stop
I’m singing this hymn for you
I’ll kneel in the grit for you
Make craters in my knees for you
Kneel in the grit for you
Would I though?

All around
Heads dip heavy over empty palms
Waiting on longago promises
Desperate midnight messages
Clutching at snapping straws
Slipping further from the light
But our Godde is not afraid of the dark
She has walked the depths before us
Swings a starry cloak around our shoulders
A soft veil to hide our faces
On the days we’re too tired and broken to fix our smiles

All around
See the handkerchief wielders, the cheerleaders, the cleaners, the bring a hot-mealers
Here are her wings
And any one of them might be kneeling in the dirt too
With their own broken hearts or strangling fears
But we offer up each other
To the embrace of a Godde
Who knows the taste of dust, and blood,
And loneliness
A Godde who is not afraid of the dark
A Godde who doesn’t give up on us

Katrina Quinn, November 2018, Inspired by The Liturgists’ podcast “God Our Mother”

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