My Holy Moments

My holy moments
are when the moon shines
bright in the kitchen window
on a winter morning,
or when I hold a bowl of water,
remember its importance in a dry land,
or when I am merged in music
made together with my comrades,
or solitary, with a brush and colours
searching out the beauty that has lured me.

All this I would share with you
in hopes that you might validate my witnessing,
delight me with the story you would tell.

But such desires
seem grotesquely out of place
in this tumult of catastrophes.
Although catastrophes of old
have made a place for us.

And yet, when fear and loathing
would push aside all that we share,
men and women knelt in the streets,
and prayed forgiveness,
for having overlooked,
all these years,
the simple fact that we are one,
borne on this frail planet
together.
I wept.

(June 2020)

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