oremus by Pádraig Ó Tuama

So let us pick up
the stones over which we stumble,
friends, and build altars.
Let us listen to the sound of breath in our bodies.

Let us listen to the sounds
of our own voices,
of our own names,
of our own fears.

Let us name the harsh light and
soft darkness that surround us.

Let’s claw ourselves out from the graves we’ve dug.

Let’s lick the earth from our fingers.

Let us look up and out and around.
The world is big and wide and wild and wonderful and wicked,
and
our lives are murky, magnificent, malleable, and full of meaning.

Oremus.
Let us pray.

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