Prayers & Prose For Peace

Angel Help

Life Is So Generous A Giver

Life is so generous a giver, but we, judging its gifts by their covering, cast them away as ugly or heavy, or hard. Remove the covering, and you will find beneath it a living splendor, woven of love, by wisdom, with power.

Welcome it, grasp it, and you touch the angel’s hand that brings it to you. Everything we call a trial, a sorrow or a duty, believe me, that angel’s hand is there; the gift is there, and the wonder of an overshadowing presence. Our joys too: be not content with them as joys. They too conceal diviner gifts.

And so, at this time, I greet you. Not quite as the world sends greetings, but with profound esteem and with the prayer that for you now and forever, the day breaks, and the shadows flee.

— Fra Giovanni

Do My Best

I Promise

I promise.
In quiet ways, most not seen.
To be myself,
to love enough,
to dream.
To give myself and you and me
a strong heart
a place to be.
To reach out
and color true,
to love a child
that’s me,
that’s you.

—RLs

Sky Crane

The Heart Lasts Forever

My love for you is beyond gender,
beyond the constraints of personality,
beyond space and time.

It is contained
in the marvelous crystalline lattice,
held by the heart strings,
plucked like a harp,
dipped into the well of clear water.

We are here for just an instant
and vanish like a snowflake,
our imprint still shimmering
against the glass pane.

But the heart, the heart-
it lasts forever.

—Terri Glass

Geese

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

— Mary Oliver

Hand Holding Oat Seeds

Your Song

Your song,
a wished-for song.

Go through the ear to the center
where sky is, where wind,
where silent knowing.

Put seeds and cover them.
Blades will sprout
where you do your work.

—Rumi
Translated by Coleman Barks

Page 30 of 33« First...1020«2829303132»...Last »