Lord God, mercy is in your hands, pour
me a little. And tenderness, too. My
need is great. Beauty walks so freely
and with such gentleness. Impatience puts
a halter on my face and I run away over
the green fields wanting your voice, your
tenderness, but having to do with only
the sweet grasses of the fields against
my body. When I first found you I was
filled with light, now the darkness grows
and it is filled with crooked things, bitter
and weak, each one bearing my name….
But I go back, the threshold is always
near.
-Mary Oliver, from “Six Recognitions of the Lord”