Evening Prayer

I pray that you flower

in darkness,

planted in the grace

of your body.

Freedom is your nature,

ordinary joy
your birthright.

Healing is the rhythm

of your heartbeat.
If this doesn’t make you dance,
what will?
Don’t look for ecstasy.

Every proton in your gristle

is the kiss of an ancient star,

each electron of bone
a wave on the ocean of compassion.

Whose compassion?

Don't ask.

Names don't count

in this moment between

waking and sleep.

Who sleeps?

Don't ask.

Feel only exquisite tenderness

for those who insist you have

no right to be happy.

May the golden fingers

of your vagus nerve

hold you like an offering

of delicious fruit.
It was never forbidden.

All night, be breathed.

Photo: Josie Ravenwing