Holy

Holy as the growing tip of whip-thin cottonwood shoot
Holy as a piece of planted ground
Holy as deer passing in the night
Death’s unholy power now broken
And ended, lingering only as shadow.

I see the sun wheel in front of me
Over my shoulder, above my head,
My heart, my hand, behind my back,
Tracery cross ringed with circles

Not dividing, but encompassing
Reconciling all things – reconciling
Man to God, man to man, to woman, 
To the earth – healing, uniting
Subsuming hatred into love
I see the Son, Lord of all. 

And when that long-appointed
Reconciliation finally finds me
I will spend ten thousand years
Beneath the new-starred sky
Ten thousand years dwelling in the breeze
Trees reaching for a new sun
Ten thousand years of wild fruit
And crystal stream water
Every bird my friend, every eye
A new star, every sound of wind
Taking my turn in the eternal song.

Author: Duncan MacNae

Exiled Gael, scion of the Dust Bowl, dweller within Divine Grace, admirer of mountains, I have made my peace with trout and the starlings. Looking for a river and healing trees. duncanmacduncan5@gmail.com View all posts by Duncan MacNae