'A Grace'

Daniel Boone had a hit song in the 1970s: "Beautiful Sunday." In a strange kind of way this Sunday is. Because it is full of grace that is still undefinable.


Sharing Donald Hall's poem "A Grace" from Bill Moyers's The Language of Life:

A Grace

God, I know nothing, my sense is all nonsense,
And fear of You begins intelligence:
Does it end there? For sexual love, for food,
For books and birch trees I claim gratitude,
But when I grieve over the unripe dead
My grief festers, corrupted into dread,
And I know nothing. Give us our daily bread.



In the same book, Hall tells Moyers quoting mystic Meister Eckhart, that "when we pray for something, we pray to nothing. When we pray for nothing, we pray to something. When we ask for things from God, we are doing less than nothing."


Happy Sunday, all, while I figure out the latest conundrum in my life.


Photo of Salcedo Park on a Saturday evening by SINAG DE LEON