Mary Oliver’s praying

This morning during my prayer and yoga time, I grew frustrated with myself.  I couldn’t focus, the words wouldn’t come, I felt blocked.  Seems that sometimes in trying too hard, I lose the purpose of prayer.  This poem helped me find my way back.

Praying

It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.

~ Mary Oliver ~

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