Once I would say “table,” and mean
“table.” Once, I would say
“broccoli” and mean “broccoli.”
I would say “stone” and mean
“stone.” I really did believe
that things were separate.
And nameable. Now,
every word that comes
out of my mouth, no matter
how many syllables, no matter
the tone of voice, no matter
my intention, I’ve come to understand
that every word
is really just a translation
for thank you,
thank you for this moment.
And every silence between the words,
regardless how brief,
is really just the sound
of one hand in gratitude clapping.
Posted by kind permission of the poet. This poem first appeared on Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer’s daily poem blog, A Hundred Falling Veils.
At first we just say flower. How thrilling it is to name. Then it’s aster….
Today I will praise. I will praise the sun For showering its light On this…
If I spell my name in bruised melanin and ink …
This site is brought to you by A Network for Grateful Living, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit. All donations are fully tax deductible in the U.S.A.
© 2000 - 2020, A Network for Grateful Living
Website by Briteweb
We invite you to experience six blessings in this short, meditative video from Brother David: