Yesterday I was stranded at a cemetery.
Clouds straddled hills on their way in.
It was peaceful.
It was addled (the freeway bends around us, down below; Denny's feeds travelers over there).
I had on my mind humanity's song,
and then this morning -- no longer at the cemetery, having been rescued, brought to church, to music, to sorrow, to joy, although as an instrument wanting -- I recognized them chanting, "Come unto Him and be enlightened, and your faces shall not be ashamed." It is all they say; it is everything.
Sitting in my lack, standing humbled, seeing my judgments, or beginning to. Stepping into this first rain voice, which continues.