Skip to main content

WHEN YOU ASK ME TO PRAY...THIS by Kat Myrman

When I wrote this poem I was considering the idea of prayer…

How, all too often our prayers become a laundry list of requests for things to feed our selfishness and ego rather than communion with the Divine other and the realization that we are One. 
When you ask me to pray…this…
by Kat Myrman

no ceaseless pleas
for favors from
a deity beyond, nor
simple conversations
‘tween some small
imagined voices, nor
yearly rites of gluttony
and sport peppered
with thanks, no final
utterance, eleventh
hour recompense.
a wisp of breath
more subtle,
effortless in present
tense, embodying
the senses in a dance
of elements, where
answers aren’t the
aim and questions are
irrelevant, this is the
prayer I pray for you
with utmost reverence.

Kat Myrman: When she’s not working in a cubicle from 9 to 5, Kat can be found taking photographs and photo editing, writing poetry and prose, or sketching and painting. With roots in traditional Christianity, these days Kat finds herself transitioning more into a feminine, earth-based Spirituality with a focus on living in the moment. Her greatest joy is found in encouraging and empowering others. Kat lives in a century-old home in a historic neighborhood in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia with her wife, Traci and their menagerie of critters: two very big dogs, three rescued kitties, a tortoise and a Sun Conure. Her four grown daughters have enriched Kat’s life with five (and counting) amazing grandchildren and several grand-pups. You can connect with Kat at her blog “like mercury colliding”, on Facebook, or on her pet kid’s Facebook Page, Henry’s Friends (where Kat is the translator).

~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

IMAGINE A WOMAN by Patricia Lynn Reilly

  This poem invites you to look upon yourself with loving kindness… Gazing at your own true reflection, you will discover that everything you have longed for “out there” is already within you! I invite you to love your creativity fiercely. Faithfully plant seeds, allowing under-the-ground dormant seasons, nurturing your creative garden with love and gratitude. In the fullness of time, the green growing things thrust forth from the ground. It's a faithful, trustworthy process. AND it takes time and patience.  Blessed is the fruit of your creative womb! I invite you to trust your vision of the world and express it. With wonder and delight, paint a picture, create a dance, write a book, and make up a song. To give expression to your creative impulses is as natural as your breathing. Create in your own language, imagery, and movement. Follow no script. Do not be limited by the customary way things have been expressed. Your creative intuition is original. Gather

IMBOLC by Caroline Mellor

The inspiration for this poem came after I watched a magical winter sunset and full moonrise from the top of Firle Beacon in the South Downs... Unusually for me, I wrote the poem quite quickly and changed it very little before publishing it – perhaps the energies were working through my pen! Imbolc is the mid-point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. It’s a fire festival which I particularly love because of its associations with Brigid, the Celtic Mother Goddess of arts and crafts, clear sight, healing, inspiration and nurturance of creative talents – something which, through my writing, I am always trying to connect with.  I also love Imbolc because, with so much darkness and negativity in the world today, it is a time for hope, potential, visioning and initiation. With love and blessings as the light returns. Photography by Chanel Baran IMBOLC    by Caroline Mellor I am the dream of awakening. I am the returning of the night.  I am the tough green

WINTER SOLSTICE: A GIFT OF LOVE by Carolyn Riker

I’ve had several days now of alone time… It is unusual and a gift that I couldn’t see until I breathed it. I have been able to watch the sun’s rise through the grey of dawn and smile at the flickers of frost melting on the waving boughs of evergreen. It’s unique to follow daylight as it traverses the tempo of a cat’s soft slumbering purr. Night comes swifter and the glow of candles and the flames of fire comfort me more than the steady stream of always-doing-more. As much as I resisted, I needed this break. I had no idea how much my body was trying to tell me   slow down   until the exhaustion settled in around my joints. My eyes swam in molasses. Heaviness of I-can’t-hold-out-much-long, walked me to the throne of my nest. It’s winter’s gift of self-nurturing and love. It’s been a quiet proclamation of femininity and a need for comfort foods. Lemon crisps and cranberry, white-chocolate shortbread dipped in tea; I felt a hint of being pampered without