The Question Tells Our Stories

“Open Book Policy” by Alex E. Proimos is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0.

*

The Question Tells Our Stories

By Jane Tawel

December 2, 2022

*

The young are ensnared,

by the Questioners,

who with all good intentions intact,

nonetheless, trap them

and grade them,

and release them into the world

thinking that the questions are:

What?

Who?

When?

And many never learn that these questions

have no ultimate worth

and will never satisfy.

For that which we all long for is — 

a story worth telling

a story worth listening to,

a story worth living.

*

And all of us,

may be ground down

by those who lead

the inquisitions of

banal things,

like education, and politics, and religion.

We who educate the young

Still believe we can teach them answers.

Have none of us learned yet,

that all that matters

are what questions we learn to ask,

and live with?

How few of us learn,

that all of life’s prompts,

are asking each of us,

all of us,

to answer only — 

“How?”

and “Why?”

And few of us learn or know

that when we ask

the real questions,

that even the questions are unclear,

But that living with the right questions

will lead us,

and we will lie down in green pastures,

near still waters,

in peace

with the questions.

*

Oh, yes, many of us still seek

what we think to be written

in black and white.

And we foolishly walk in halls

constructed by Whats and Whos

and made crooked with straight lines

and covered in moldy, dead pictures

of dead saints and deader patriots.

And we live lives afraid of our own stories.

And we must hate and fear something,

so, we hate and fear the stories of others.

And we keep chasing whats and whos.

As if they were real.

As if they could last.

*

Listen to the elders speak.

“Oh, Our People –

when human stories are no longer told,

and we no longer look at each other

awed by the mystery,

then the heroes have failed and

and the protagonist has died,

and the antagonists of the Story,

and the enemies of meaning and longing,

have won.

But they too, silly fools,

Will have no victory in death.

*

Oh, we must remain awake!

We must keep turning the pages;

pages written only for us

in this place, and this time.

We must keep searching for the themes,

one by one,

eyes open

past our bedtimes

times that would turn out our lights,

and leave the Story unfinished.

Oh, I am learning to live

in the mystery

that all Good Stories must have,

waiting to gasp at the surprise ending.

For we know not

of what we are made of now,

but one day, we shall be revealed to be,

not what we are,

not who we are,

not what we have been;

but Why we have been,

and Why we have lived,

and Why we will always be.

*

Oh, My People,

when we stop telling each other our stories,

and listening to each other’s stories — 

Well, that is when the Story of humanity

and of our beautiful earth,

will end –

*

Oh, My People,

Tell your stories.

Tell them to whomever will listen.

Tell your story

in your bedroom,

in your office,

in check-out lines

and empty pews,

and protest marches

and wherever you are

and with whomever you are with.

And when you tell your true story,

and listen to another’s true story,

Why, then –

whatever you do

that you think is important

will be revealed

to be a lovely, peaceful little nothing at all,

compared to the True Story of You.

*

Oh, My People,

Learn your story.

You are not a what

Or a who

Or a when — 

You have come through your story, thus far,

by learning to ask “How”.

And if you haven’t already,

You must now be brave enough

to ask yourself, “Why?”.

And then write

just the next moment of your story,

that is all your story needs,

the next word,

the next line,

the next action

that answers your “Why”.

And then you may write

one moment more,

and that too,

will be the answer.

And by asking the write questions,

You are asking the right questions.

And you are turning the page,

on another day to become closer

to the Story’s Awesome Ending! — 

and the answer to Why.

“Here am I, Oh Why. Send me.”

*

You are an arc, a radius, a point,

in the Awesome Circle

we sit in together,

telling the Story of Why.

Take part today in the Circle of Life.

*

And in the questions,

that your story,

and his story,

and her story,

and their story

ask with words whispered,

with proclamations shouted,

with songs sung;

the questions,

written large and small

with nubby pencils,

and leaking ink pens,

and sticks on cave walls,

and bindings both new and old — 

in the questions pulsing

like living hearts outside a body,

in the stories of yourself and others,

and all of humankind — 

you will find the Living Mystery,

that some call “God”,

and some call “Meaning”,

and some call “The Answer” — 

but all of humankind calls — 

“ The Why”.

*

Oh, My People,

There are only two stories to be told.

One is loss.

And the other is –

Love.

Loss is the story of How.

Loss will guide the protagonist’s steps,

if allowed to be the catalyst to change.

But the only story worth

keeping on the top shelf of your thinking,

and the locked vault of Memory’s library,

and passed from hand to hand

in the circles of our gatherings;

and kept safely, next to the bed

to be read again,

and with parts memorized

for telling when the nightmares come,

or our sleepy children snuggle close,

or an old worn out body breathes its last;

the only story to be cherished

and told and retold and told again,

the story that is no respecter of persons,

but available for free,

always for all of us;

the only story worth living for,

worth dying for,

worth trusting in;

the Story with the real Ending,

that will never, never come,

but that will go on into eternity,

Why, that Story –

the story that answers “Why”,

is the Story of Love.

Oh, My People,

the only story that when told and retold,

never grows stale or boring,

the only story that is worth sharing,

again,

and again,

and again

is the Story of Love.

*

And Love will always,

Always — 

Always — 

Be — 

Forever…

The Story that answers

the only question worth asking:

Why?

© Jane Tawel, 2022

*

*

I lived among the books and things,

and rode the merry-go-round.

And as I reached for the golden ring — 

Why — suddenly I found

that Life is not a carousel

that I did have to ride,

so, I slide off, so I could tell,

of what I’d found, before I died.

Oh, Children, do not hop aboard,

this world’s illusive wheel.

Instead, trust what you feel,

to be the Path your soul reveals.

For it’s within your very own,

dear self that you will find

a true and loving peaceful home,

for heart, and soul, and mind.

You must be brave.

You must be modest.

You’ll find The Path,

most strange and oddest.

But you will find around each bend,

our joy in journeying never ends.

*

© Jane Tawel, 2022

Loss of IQ in America Leads to Killings

Loss of IQ in America Leads to Killings

by Jane Tawel

Victims’ Families outside Colorado Springs LGBTQ Night Club

*

My daughter told me the other day that there is a documentary detailing the extreme loss of IQ Americans had due to lead in our water and houses and gasoline etc. etc. That is the only thing I can think of that could possibly be the reason for how insane I find current America to be. We are waking up today with another mass shooting — another murder of five people, five families, countless friends and co-workers destroyed by the lack of IQ and complete loss of true ethics of an entire nation by default — and no it wasn’t senseless — it was the sense of hatred and the rational of “freedom” which has become simply a freedom to do evil because the rich and powerful like staying rich and powerful behind their bodyguards and protected security details while the rest of us are confused by the fact they say they want to save fetuses but we forget they don’t want to save our actual children. And this country will not look itself in the face and say, hey, this hasn’t been a democracy for a long time — it’s an oligarchy and it is time to look at what this country is really based on — greed at the top and fear at the bottom.

And all I can do is say, well, I have to do better myself. I have to stop the greed in myself. I have to stop the fear in myself. And I will not be silent but I will also not put my hope in anything but a different way of living. And I will try not to fear but I will stay angry and I will try to find some religious offering tables to turn over and I will paint sacrificial blood on the door of my heart that I will not return hatred in return for hatred and that fear will not visit the house of my mind and heart today but that I will see the American Pharaohs for what they are and always have been and always will be, and I will find that I must put my trust and hope elsewhere.

Let us find each other, and put our hope and trust in each other’s capacity and will to Love. Today I will pray for the mothers and fathers and siblings and friends of those most recent victims and martyrs to American Hatred and Greed and I will — Look to the helpers, as Mr. Rogers said. Look to the poor in spirit, as the Christ would say. Look to The Way, The Tao that all spiritually evolved saviors point to and then I will ask myself, “well, what can I do?” Well….. maybe just like Seuss’ Who’s in Whoville, if enough of us say “We are here. We are here. Here am I, Lord, send me.” — well, maybe…. maybe we can save this poor ole good idea for a kingdom/nation called America, and maybe we can save the world, and maybe we can save the planet. But…. today I will weep because we can’t save five more innocent people in Colorado Springs, America. When will we care enough about each other to say, “Enough!”?

© Jane Tawel, 2022

Forgivin’ is Livin’

by Jane Tawel

“Fake Bird, Real Sky” by Daveography.ca is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.

*

Forgivin’ is Livin’

By Jane Tawel

November 19, 2022

*

Forgive my assumptions

that lead me to doubt

that You have guided and gifted me.

*

Forgive my forgetting

the times that pure Grace

was all that protected and lifted me.

*

Forgive my instructions

that force You to choose

whether Your will or my will is done.

*

Forgive me the most

for the things that I boast of

while neglecting it all came through grace.

And help me, today,

to walk in a New Way,

that one day, We may stand face to Face.

*

Forgive that I choose

to be lazy or greedy

and to live in a life based on fear.

*

May I do what is hardest,

and forgive me, Myself;

to stop looking outside me,

for there’s nothing to right me,

but the Love that’s inside me,

and has always been here.

*

Forgiving is freeing

You, you, and you.

Forgiving is seeing

that all that is True,

is Faith, Hope, and Love—

all the rest will be past,

and all that will last,

is whatever I’ve given

to bring to earth, Heaven.

Oh! “for-givin’” is livin’

in Eternity now.

*

“Go, now, your sins are forgiven. Which is harder to say? Your body is healed or your soul is healed? You have forgiven yourself in the same measure that you have forgiven others. Forgive yourself as We forgive you. Forgive, and Live.” (Paraphrased from The Wise One)

© Jane Tawel, 2022

Deciding on Miracles

“Last Dandelion in Turku” by Pensiero is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

*

Deciding on Miracles

By Jane Tawel

November 6, 2022

The following are in part, at this time, some of my fledgling reflections on some of the seminal and profound ideas in that great chestnut by M. Scott Peck, The Road Less Traveled.

*

I shall decide that today is a miracle,

“Today is a miracle”.

I shall imbibe of the salty and sweet,

and watch the small miracle of my carefully placed feet.

And when I feel faint or uncertain in knowing,

I shall not retreat from the knowledge that’s growing,

that every small moment that I have of living,

is a strange unknown mercy, not earned, simply given.

*

And we fear all the things that we don’t understand,

but, in truth, even as rational thought does expand,

we are ever more fearful, and anxious, and fetal.

While religions have certainly quite often been evil,

we might miss the deep truths of our innate and primeval,

amazing, inscrutable sense of the ineffable,

by ignoring the fact that true faith is accessible,

by simply and humbly accepting right now,

that we are still living — and we do not know how.

*

Oh, I shall with skeptical prodding, intact,

be carefully aware, we don’t know all the facts.

But how else to explain my survival today,

when all history and science point quite different ways?

One must say, “It’s a mystery.” And then one must face,

that the answer is simple: It’s a matter of grace.

*

Today I shall decide that I am a miracle.

This moment — a miracle.

My eyes — a miracle.

My breath — a miracle.

My fingers — a miracle.

My thought — a miracle.

My feeling — a miracle.

My health — a miracle.

My family — a miracle.

That bird — a miracle.

That pond — a miracle.

The sky — a miracle.

A dandelion is a stunning miracle.

You and Them — miracles…….

Oh, there are not enough pages or scientific journals or theological tomes in the whole of the world’s history! — to hold all the miracles of grace, in just this moment!

*

Dear Nameless, Unknowable, Miraculous, Gracious Giver of All Life:

Help me to keep this holy but foolish vow:

This day, I will step into the miracle that I am alive.

And no matter what may befall me or my world or the planet today,

may I count not the things that have been lost,

but the pearl of great price I have found.

If I lose my eyes, may I be grateful for my heart still beating.

If my heart stops beating,

may the memories of my heart of love still live in others.

If I lose all that is dearest to me — my loved ones — my ability to think — my shelter — 

may I even in utter despair,

believe that Eternity exists because Love never dies,

and may I trust that when all facts seem to point to hell on earth,

there is a heaven, most real, to be found in the Mystery of Grace.

May I embrace an inexplicable joy in my journey today,

and tonight, lie down in perfect peace, knowing that

fear and even death, have no power

against the Eternal Power of Grace and Love.

Oh, I bless the time in which I was born,

and I stand in wonder that all the factors of my existence,

and that the science and religion and books and other people

have all given me just enough knowledge,

to burn my fingers and my wings,

but not enough fire to blind me, or kill me.

Oh yes, like the primordial, cosmic, foolish, and absolutely brilliant being that I am,

I shall keep rubbing together the two little sticks I have been given.

I shall keep making my small little fire of miraculous light and life.

And I shall keep burning within me,

the friction caused between knowledge and faith.

And with the miracle of the scientific fact that nothing is ever destroyed,

and with the scientific fact that my very existence and life today

is an unexplained miracle of grace,

I will rejoice that in this moment, I miraculously live forever.

Oh, grace has kept me safe thus far, and

Grace will bring me Home.

*

© Jane Tawel, 2022

Dialogue, Example A: Between I and One: Listen

“Sunrise” by AdeRussell is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

*

Dialogue, Example A: Between I and One

Listen

By Jane Tawel

October 30, 2022

*

I: I’m trying harder to catch what You are saying.

One: You aren’t really trying hard enough. You keep letting the flotsam and jetsam of this world, of your emotions and of your limiting of Time, clog the flow of the Stream. You say you want to hear Me but you are afraid, and so you put up blocks, and fill your ears with anesthetizing ear buds, and put blinders around the eyes of your Soul. You allow all of your scars and fears to interrupt the airwaves of Our communication to the deepest, truest you. And so, your mind is consumed with chatter and not communication. You let your mind keep talking. Just listen. Just try, for even just a moment, to listen.

*

I: No one loves me. Not even him. Not even her. Not all those whom I have done this and that and the other for. No one.

One: All love is fractured and fragmented, and comes to you in broken pieces, just as your love has been felt as incomplete shards in their hearts. Only We put all the pieces together, but you can not see the Whole now. What you must do is stop considering love piecemeal — “here today, gone tomorrow”… “he loves me for this but not for that”….. “she doesn’t really love me”… and so forth and so on. Love will never feel whole until you see that Love is not a reality from one individual or group or accomplishment, but all Love is from Us and Ours, through others, through you, through time and space and hands and feet and hugs and smiles. And while Love is seemingly imprisoned by the powerful frailty of words and actions, true Love is always free and freeing and if you let yourself love and be loved, Our Eternal Love will give you the freedom to see the reality of Our Universal Love in every little broken heart and mismanaged and awkward event and in every piecemeal, incomplete, unsatisfying and yet, truly noble action of love that humans try to share with other humans in their quest and desire to love and be loved. You will know you are loved. In him. In her. Yes, even in them. And then you will know how to love even that most difficult of all beings to love — yourself.

*

I: How can I feel and believe You love me, when I am not even sure that You exist? Are you real? Or are You All something each person creates out of the need of psyche and the crutches and clutches of culture?

One: You have done well to study and search, little child. You have done well to open your mind and heart to follow after Truth, wherever it may appear. You are braver than you once were. You have overcome much and fought a good fight against your weaker selves. But at the very center of your being is still the greatest foe of all — Fear. Please, remember you are and always will be just a little child in the ways of Truth and Reality. Because you are so small, We can not be all to you that Parents are to Each Other. You have much still to learn, that is true, but some times you need to put away your books and groups and meetings and even your very thoughts, and you will be assured that We Are and We Have Always Been and We Will Always Be… And there is nothing that can separate you from Us…… if you will simply…..

Listen.

© Jane Tawel, 2022

The Owls Still Live

Night Owl

*

The Owls Still Live

By Jane Tawel

October 24, 2022

*

And as yet once again, and then again,

I lie, restless and unsleeping, yet not unafraid

in a bed not of roses, and while sometimes of thorns,

still a bed that holds me

in the sticky web of memories,

but no longer of any hopes.

And I don’t know why,

but all I know is that neither medication nor meditation

are the answer,

because the answer is no longer relevant.

An answer is only possible in the short-run,

and an answer is only as good as the Test-Maker,

and mine has showed His hand,

and I won’t be fooled again.

*

I hear the omen-call outside my window.

And myths say now it won’t be long,

won’t be long.

And yet my humanity,

so deeply entrenched since I was a child,

still listens to like calling like.

And my heart longs to believe that

even when the night is darkest,

that Like will once more call to me

as like unto Himself.

*

The canticle goes on and on,

a duet between two unseen flights of fancy.

And I can’t believe it, but it’s true,

for hours I lie awake and listen, and

the one never gives up,

no matter how long the other pauses or hesitates.

No, He never stops sending signals

of love-calls to her,

and no matter how dark the night,

like answers Like.

*

I don’t know anything anymore,

neither sleeping nor awake,

but only this –

just outside my bedroom window — 

the owls still live.

*

© Jane Tawel, 2022

Getting Old

Jane, Bryce Canyon, 2022

Getting older has a lot of downsides but on the plus side, when you know people already assume certain things about you because of the color of your hair or the texture of your skin, you don’t mind as much as you did when you were young if they think you are crazy or weird if you speak your mind. Yesterday, I had a medical test — another one (ugh) and I looked at the very efficient and young technician and when we were finished, I looked her in the eye and smiled my crooked old-lady-toothed smile and said “Enjoy every minute of your life. It goes by faster than you think it will.” When you are older you get more medical tests and that’s a bummer because you realize your health is going, going, and will sooner rather than later be gone, and especially if you are a woman and an old woman at that, you realize the medical profession prefers to think it’s all in your head or that removing the pain is the answer because there aren’t really any answers that will “cure you” of an old body breaking down and letting go, but on the plus side, you have a lot more empathy for people who come into this world with two strikes against them healthwise, or who live a lifetime in this prejudicial world, and prejudice-wise have always had to deal with people judging them on how they look or don’t look and you feel a new sense of love for humanity and you hope that kind of not getting anything in return kind of love translates into a new sense of love for yourself — for others AND for little old you. Because empathy just might be the one thing that when translated into truthful, take no prisoners, absolute, crazy Love can change even an old heart and body and mind and soul. Sometimes when people see you as an old lady somewhere like a doctor’s office or a grocery store or your workplace or even your own home with friends and family, you want to say, “you don’t really see me. The real me is not this old shell.” 

And maybe that’s just another lesson to learn, that if I am very, very quiet and patient, and open the ears of my heart and eyes of my understanding, then I might see the real you, the real him, the real her, the real them and when I really see them, well, then all I can do is love. Because the only thing in the universe that is worth seeing and holding on to is the Truth of Love. I choose to hope that Love is the one thing that might remain forever. Love never seems to have grown old for me, and I think that is because in whatever this real world might be or become, Love never grows old.

© Jane Tawel, 2022

Do Not Let Them In, They Are Not Here

Untitled by Anonymous

*

Do Not Let Them In, They Are Not Here

By Jane Tawel

September 16, 2022

*

She is not here now.

And when you let her in,

again and again,

you reveal your true insanity.

Not being part of

any true reality,

her presence has driven you mad.

*

He is not in this space.

But you have flung open

the entrances to your mind,

and now you have to face the fact,

that though you have allowed

the thief of your peaceful thoughts

almost constant habitation there,

he is dead,

(or would be if you killed him).

Allow him to die an honorable death.

Kill him gently

without leaving too much blood

on the floors in your house,

and then clean up the mess.

Remember he only came because you bid him come

and then blamed him for leaving grey scum

on the walls of your mind’s home.

He does not live here today,

and need not live in the home of your heart

any more.

*

They come disguised as cleaning crews,

or helpful guests and family,

pretending to help

with the cleaning-up of calamities

or of my misunderstandings,

but my need for them, not withstanding,

it is a relationship of lies.

For thoughts are just a house of cards,

if peopled by things one cannot see with eyes,

or hear alive in the world that exists outside the mind,

or touch with skin to skin,

feeling the softness of your cheek or the cheek of a ripe peach,

or made with something I can taste or drink

or move with the circles of my speech.

All that would dwell in the shadows

of my darkened house, filled with the

blood-suckers that would steal awakening joy,

these are nothing more

than dust motes of past emotions,

or the fogs that roll in from the future but don’t stay — 

Oh, all of this is nothing of me

in just this place — this day.

Yes, I have invited all of you not really here,

under false pretenses.

But trying to make you feel at ease as my mind’s guests,

serving your phantasmagorical hungers

from the hard labors

of the meals of my perceptions and attachments,

I feel like an alien in my own home.

The people I let in,

who do not really live here in my space,

are dirty and rude

because I allow them

to mess up that within

the home of my heart

and that which should be hallowed

in the hallways of my mind,

and still I find

it is hard to say good-bye to them.

And all that is meant to be preserved for my good,

is filled with the flood,

and mud of thinking on and on and on

about things that are not present now.

*

Do not let them in; they are not here.

Kick them all to the curb;

and prohibit them from

the treasure-room of yourself.

Those who used to live here,

or have not yet been born to you,

must take their place

with the other hallucinations

that your mind would create.

We all hear voices.

And yet, we do not stop our ears,

against those who would crash us on the shores,

of wasted energy and emotions

of all and anything that is not love.

Why, oh why, do we feel guilt,

when we release those

who do not live with us today,

those which we would cling to from yesterday,

or yearn or fear for in our tomorrows,

tomorrows which should remain unimagined?

We must stop our remembering

and our imagining,

as we dream of and with only those present,

in the here and now,

dreaming them in the reality of today.

*

Let all of them,

all but your best present-presence,

and that which is only alive in you for just this day,

leave your home,

and live where they belong,

in the house of the dead.

Let those who are not here,

take-up their residence where they belong,

and reside no more in your now

where only you

can see God and live.

Yes, there is enough space for only you,

your very present God, and you,

your home, which is yourself.

Be still

and only know this moment

and only in this moment, know

the Truth.

And let all others go.

Set them free.

So that your true self

is not housed,

but truly sheltered.

And Love will then

find plenty of room,

to fill the empty spaces,

that ghosts and chimeras have left behind.

In your home,

may all your past and future

no longer look to you

for tents of understanding build on bogs.

And in the only place you ever need,

the place in you that you call home,

the home that is yourself,

may you live forever-now

in peace.

© Jane Tawel, 2022

How Do I?

by Jane Tawel

“Ocean Wave” by smhowell2 is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

How Do I?

By Jane Tawel

September 9, 2022

*

How do I stop blaming myself?

Renaming myself in a thousand ways?

How can I listen

to the tides of my dreams?

And though they may seem

just a whisper — a nudge — 

how do I let my soul

roll with the waves that

The Ocean would send my way?

*

I have one name,

One name.

And I will play only the good kind of games,

like a child I will play in the now.

And I will neither blame nor shame — 

and though I may not know exactly how,

I will not project nor expect nor attain

any thing that will harm you or me.

No, not any of you,

nor any of me

will I stop from the Flow of The Ocean.

I will see only who we can be — 

You and me — 

as I seek to become

and to be and be

One.

© Jane Tawel 2022

Set Us Free

A Poem by Jane Tawel

“Monarchs in motion” by farflungphotos is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

*

Set Us Free

By Jane Tawel

September 3, 2022

*

Set me free from the future.

Set me free from the past.

Set me free to live into

The Truth that will last.

*

Set me free from stagnation.

Set me free from my needs.

Set me free to change wholly,

and to set new dreams free.

*

Set me free by forgiveness

of the great and the small,

and as I forgive others,

may I forgive myself, all.

*

Set me free from the prison

that only I can create,

by attachment to anger

and fear, grief, and hate.

*

Let me open the prison doors

and free memories’ hostages.

Give me strength to release,

tomorrow from bondages.

And when I would put

heart or mind back in jail,

May The Spirit of Love for All Life,

fast prevail.

*

Freedom is not a longing

for nothing to lose,

Nor is being free, gain

for the ego to use.

Freedom is never greedy,

nor self-serving, nor fearful.

Freedom is never needy,

but in needlessness, cheerful.

*

Freedom is the soul’s seeking

of Love’s peace that will still

any hurt, fear, or longing

and by Grace, all is healed.

*

Oh Creator, of heaven and earth and of All,

May my spirit be freed from the sins of The Fall.

Let me claim my true power that by You, I’m designed,

to be free to create in me, new life divine.

*

May I free those who’ve hurt me

and forgive once — and all.

May resentment and bitter seed,

take no root in my soul.

*

Daily let me forgive

those I know and in general.

And as I forgive freely,

make my joy and love plentiful.

*

Oh, True Life is just waiting!

Our souls long to be free!

When I loose bonds of judgement,

I free God in you and in me.

*

May I use my soul’s freedom

for true care to employ.

And God, moment by moment

set my soul free for joy.

*

May my soul find true freedom

in The God who is One.

May our souls be united,

in only Truth, which is Love.

*

May I trust in The Word

that brings Heaven to Now.

And though I don’t know how,

let my faith become strong,

that I live now, in God’s freedom,

and for all my days long.

*

Let my daily prayer be:

Set me free.

Set him free.

Set her free.

Set them free.

Set us free,

Dear Creator,

Oh, Dear God,

set us free.

© Jane Tawel, 2022