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When worship takes me out of and then in-
to myself where connection is true, I
often feel I’ve fallen asleep. Yet let worship
end with a rustle and reaching to shake hands,
and I am perfectly there, smiling and
rested as if I had balloon-lifted
to a cherished place, and I’m happy to be
home again. I did not sleep, for no one
heard my little snore and snort, but I have
no ministry to share. Only balloons as
in “Around the World in Eighty Days" or
“The Wizard of Oz,” or the one I rode
to celebrate earning my doctorate—
up above where the arms of the wind take
hold, and as part of the wind, I don’t feel
it blow. An instant in that unity
is something to write home about because
it is God-like. See? Nature/God causes
spirit moments like promises. And so
suddenly I believe in covenants.
And as worship ends, I know I will have
no other gods before me than direct
experience of love and unity.
April Challenge Day 16
My blog poems are rough drafts.
Please respect my copyright.
© 2023 Susan L. Chast
A wonderful poem - and worldview. I can only imagine lifting up in a balloon. A friend of mine once drifted across the Serengeti at dawn in a hot air baloon. She said she thought of me and so, in a sense, I was there.
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