In an abundant wood Of Queen Anne’s lace dried and brown like bamboo, the ant scurries its way over fallen bramble and raspberry thorn, twisted California poppy blooming orange. As I lay there, intertwined listening, I hear an old man with an ancient smile in simple language say – “Every step is a Prayer.” 1
Every feather in a wing every sail set to sea thread woven as cloth horn blast in the fog every step is a Prayer; each one hand holding Another.
Every medicine taken line and lure cast ribbon tied in a bow hand in the collection plate home run or base hit; each one a Prayer.
Every blood draw and needle stick tongue taste of envelope glue, spatula slipped under bubbling eggs, tender kiss before going to sleep – each is a step a test of faith; every step is a Prayer.
Know each measure of your breath, the rise and fall in and out of each moment; of every step you take.
Every step is a Prayer each One hand holding Another
1. Wallace Blak quoting his granfather, Black Elk
Copyright Mark Hannan 1998
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