I Wander Less Lonely

I Wander Less Lonely

(“May he be pleased with my song, for my gladness comes from him.” Psalm 104:34)

With open arms I master the song that pools through my mind.
Every breath is full of the divine,
every step so much closer to his abode within.
I throw off the apprehension that keeps me a child of fear.
I create unedited psalms for the king who occupies my ways.
The words from my mouth, the lyrics I write are
meant to be
full of gladness and running over with praise.

It is the little things, after all, isn’t it? A grandson
who wants to play tag with his Papa, who wants to sit in
his lap to read the same story three times in a row.
All this, and more, directs my heart toward the Creator
of my song. Children occupy the altars of my mind,
the spaces left open for celestial celebrations of joy.
Every playful invitation to play is seen as God’s invitation.
Every giggle another reason to breathe fully the depth of creation.
Wouldn’t it be right to take the funny language of toddlers
as the holy voice of God? Wouldn’t it be healing to believe
every unequaled squeal as the instigation of faith?
And when he insists I share his popsicle,
how can I seen it as anything other than the generosity of God?

And so I search the atmosphere for more clues of
the ways of God in the universe. So I take each birdsong as
an invitation to sing like I belong to the continuing creation
and nature’s own symphony.

Taken together, the songs and the words, the play and the giggles,
the unending repetition of his favorite things, I wander less lonely,
I carry my burdens more lightly. And I send words toward heaven
like the flight of the swallows over the fields.