A poem on which to meditate – who is God?

I’m currently reading  Stitches by Anne Lamott who I heard at Greenbelt this year and then got semi-star-struck as she signed my copy. Anne is a superb writer and she quotes in this book from a poem by Jane Kenyon. Here is the poem, it’s been haunting me since I googled it. Really beautiful. Enjoy.

Briefly It Enters, Briefly Speaks


I am the blossom pressed in a book,
found again after two hundred years. . . .


I am the maker, the lover, and the keeper….


When the young girl who starves
sits down to a table
she will sit beside me. . . .


I am food on the prisoner’s plate. . . .


I am water rushing to the wellhead,
filling the pitcher until it spills. . . .


I am the patient gardener
of the dry and weedy garden. . . .


I am the stone step,
the latch, and the working hinge. . . .


I am the heart contracted by joy. . . .


the longest hair, white
before the rest. . . .


I am there in the basket of fruit
presented to the widow. . . .


I am the musk rose opening
unattended, the fern on the boggy summit. . . .


I am the one whose love
overcomes you, already with you
when you think to call my name. . . .


“Briefly It Enters, and Briefly Speaks” by Jane Kenyon from Collected Poems. Copyright © 2005 by the Estate of Jane Kenyon. Reprinted with permission of Graywolf Press, www.graywolfpress.org.

Source: Collected Poems (Graywolf Press, 2005)

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