Sweet Comfort Grace

I look
at gold and world
and see
children's trinkets and sand.
Heaven-joy carries me
far beyond myself.

If only my breath
were a wind
through-sweetened with praise,
to carry Love's flames
starwards, toward You.

If only I,
out of Love,
could be the Phoenix kindled,
could perish entirely out of bliss,
into my one desire.

Let me in thankfulness
be Your mirror,
God-
Then Your own rays
might be returned to You,
in grace-words, in equal light.


from On the Sweet Comfort Brought by Grace by Catharina Regina Von Greiffenberg translated by Jane Hirshfield with Samuel Michael Halevi printed in Women in Praise of the Sacred HarperPerennial 1994

Comments

Lisa :-] said…
A lovely counterpoint to my post about prayer...
Jan said…
Thank you.

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