GRATIA PLENA

by Beate Sigriddaughter

All prayer in the end is gratitude

without exception shells wait to be sand

as life recycles poems at my feet in purple

moist exuberance while seagulls practice solos

with wings made transparent by sunrise

yes in the morning the crows fly west

and east again at night I love that

everyone is so busy being alive heart-breaking

even the sound of water on pebbles receding

click click turning stones into music

a heron fishes precise in his hunger

he takes no more from the sea than he needs

though the lush orange and yellow maple leaves

some larger than my hand whisper there's more

and a flower flickers white behind a vine

if life has petals that large what can it

possibly not do despite the wars we conduct

or tolerate or do not speak against or not loudly

enough afraid of miracles we avoid the eyes

of all angels we try to nail down death first

rather than open hands to life the uncharted

the unfamiliar the patient courtship that begs

to listen to pray with each footfall to praise

and to believe it possible to change the world

by trailing a grateful hand in water   


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"Gratia Plena" was first published by Hawai'i Pacific Review.