Three hots,
a cot, served
in the prison of
my hospital room.
My bed is alarmed,
guarding against an escape
from gravity.
A gravid situation -
Who would escape
the luxury of all this bounty?
Blessed beyond measure
aren't we,
with all that we need -
three hots,
a cot.
A heart of fire
and a table laden,
overflowing with bountiful goodness.
a cot, served
in the prison of
my hospital room.
My bed is alarmed,
guarding against an escape
from gravity.
A gravid situation -
Who would escape
the luxury of all this bounty?
Blessed beyond measure
aren't we,
with all that we need -
three hots,
a cot.
A heart of fire
and a table laden,
overflowing with bountiful goodness.
I breathe in the name of God.
Breathe in the name of God,
the name of God -
God!
There is such grace
in this giving,
a kindness unmeasured.
So give thanks
and sing your praise
for all that we have,
for all we have not,
for all that will be given.
Sing praise,
and let us shout
Amen.
1 comment:
As always Stacey, my personal poet laureate, a beautiful honest searing hot and humble prayer. Gratitude thanks at this holiday unlike other years, even for those who are not bound to a bed like you are right now. You remind me that we must /I must be grateful for the bounty of my life which includes having a friend like you who reminds me always of reasons for gratitude. Dearest Stacey soon I hope you will be free of your current bondage and eventually -- when it is allowed -- I will be back to visiting you in person. much love always and especially now.
Betsy
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