Pour Out Your Blessing



“I do not know much about gods; but I think that the river/Is a strong brown god –“

-- T. S. Eliot

God is water; we are water.
The boundless ocean now is breathing
rain-heavy clouds. And clouds are filling
strong brown rivers. And everywhere rivers
pour out their blessing, their sinuous zeal
for return to the cloud-pregnant sea.

God is a cycle; we are that cycle.
A river is never its shoreline, its bottom,
the trees or the towns that it feeds on its journey,
not even the meandering line of its course.
A river is water, brown water in motion.
Know this: God is motion; and us? We’re the moving.

But which God?,you ask; Know this: “gods” are clouds.
Jesus, a cloud. Jehovah, a cloud.
Krishna, Allah, the Great Mother – clouds.
Bodies of water, shapes in the sky,
pregnant with blessing, and us?
We’re the rain.

We’re rivers in motion. Know this: the fixed shores
of our lives cannot limit who we really are.
Dear God, we do pray, bless the trees and the towns,
but the rain-heavy clouds, and the cloud-pregnant sea,
the you, and the me, and the We in our courses –
We’re water. We’re blessing. Pour out! Pour out!

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