Living Doxology

Living Doxology

Why let another day pass as the same,
sky as crystallized blue, ground the color of humus--
and not simply rejoice?!

I am living each day with a
newfound independence--
trading correctness for mindful gestures--
all of which means, at this very moment,
that I am loved by something/by Someone
so much bigger than I am.

Why imagine? Imagine why
we continue this cycle of living
that can too easily feel
clunky like charcoal at the bottom
of a shoe, resisting light:
a dialogue with Sisyphus' strategician.

I'd like to create for myself
a mechanism in which to remember Spirit,
motion mightily like tenderness,
like living life under a soft cotton blanket
and opening out the edges to embrace the world--
not afraid of cold feet.
Spend an hour smelling cinnamon;
another one relishing the taste of water.
Listen to the scratching sound of pen against paper.

I will steep my life for awhile in joy,
savor the seasons.
Live Doxology in Laughter:
This is my work.
This is my labor.

A poem written 12/3/2009 by Elizabeth G. Campbell