Thursday, September 3, 2015

I took a one night sabbatical and drove the two hours from the farm where we live to the small town of Gimli on the shore of Lake Winnipeg, with a lovely sandy beach and a lake that goes out into the distant horizon.

Not far from mustard seed,
I wait on the beach.
Pilgrim to Gimli.

If it's nothing I seek
I think I have found it,
And a cold wind as well.
Far off the white caps
Draw near but don't tell.
All they contribute
Is dashing themselves.

Today I take communion with the world,
you broken, bruised, and lovely thing.
We are soon to part, and I will go
where my road leads, and forget what I know;
forget this wholeness, lose this peace.
But there will have been
there will have been
this little moment
when the world and I
shared communion.

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