prayers for this day and other days

if you haven't read through this book yet, I urge you to pick one up.  I have had my copy for about 7 years, and I am always finding lovely things in between its pages.

here is a portion of one prayer that I have been praying for a relationship I am currently in.

Help Me to Believe in Beginnings

God of history and of my heart,
so much has happened to me during these whirlwind days:
    I've known death and birth;
    I've been brave and scared;
    I've hurt, I've helped;
    I've been honest, I've lied;
    I've destroyed, I've created;
    I've been with people, I've been lonely;
    I've been loyal, I've betrayed;
    I've decided, I've waffled;
    I've laughed and I've cried.
You know my frail heart and my frayed history -
and now another day begins.

O God, help me to believe in beginnings
and in my beginning again,
no matter how often I've failed before.

Amen.

playing with an image of g-d

I am working on drawing this image up, but here is the verbiage that has spilled from my head this afternoon...

feminine being with earthen eyes
holding a table of the world out from her chest with arms waving excess underneath and bulging biceps
standing up with the strain
with one eye she watches
as her people and her creations wander about with their (our) intentions
and joys and energies varied
move about the earth-table with hollowed bellies, wide open holes like windows to what lies beyond them

some - many - few people kneel down at the feminine breasts
that lay across the table leaking sustenance from her body,
the excess dreamily dripping from their lips
while others slurp fast and move on
and from others the milk spills back out from their hollow centers and trails behind them
and some moan and wail as their tears join the flowing milk in sadness or joy as it flows to the edges of the table-earth

some - many - few people kneel down on the earth-table, and fondle the dirt
with expressions of peace or agony or indifference strewn about their faces and pieces of dirt fall
off the edge of the world
near the feet of the mother who

watches us with one eye

while the other tends to
a pot
of gurgling mud
made up from table-world spilled dirt
which spews steam and smoke swirls up
over the table-world,
circling up and around the hollow centers of the creations wandering across this table-earth
 and filling them
 fueling them
reminding and encouraging them
this, the dirt of decomposed and re-purposed prayers minded by the mother, tended to with a watchful eye, and touched from the lives of those drinking from the streams of her breasts.