Pray. Listen.

The prayerful heart shall hear
the sound of a fist becoming unclenched,
the sound of the rain hundreds had prayed for
finally, gratefully, soaking the earth.

The prayerful heart shall hear
the sound of homeless men building their homes at last,
the sound of hungry women gathering their grain,
the sound of children, once unschooled,
softly turning the pages of their very own books
as they read, wonderingly, themselves.

Prayerful hearts!

Reach out far and beyond
the invisible borders of the world's making.
Reach out
across a terrible barren stretch of doubt

far enough to know the supremacy of God as Spirit

within all mothers and fathers and children
within the consciousness of teachers and kings
throughout the darkest nights in crowded city streets
in fragile boats
in empty deserts
in cradles
in prisons.

Acknowledge what mighty truths
can be thundered in these places!
Acknowledge what infinite, tender truths
will be whispered!

that affections are fed
that hands are held
that seeds grow

because God is and does.

With all the love our Father-Mother has given us
to see with, to pray with,
Pray. Listen.
And gently we shall hear, dear hearts, not tears
but the priceless sounds of progress....

Elaine Natale

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Come, taste the real Life
June 19, 1989

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