In The Midst Of Contemplative Prayer Poem by Richard Cole

God shows up with a leaf blower,
talking in quiet Spanish
to the lawn crew that manicures
the beds outside our chapel.

Inside, we all look up
like prairie dogs,
then burrow deeper
as the blowers
scream and roar.
The reading for today
is Mark 6. After feeding
the five thousand, Christ
“made his disciples
get in the boat.” That night
He reappeared in the storm,
walking across the water.
They saw Him
and were terrified.
The wind died down.

After prayer we walk in silence
through the parking lot.
The crew has left.
His wandering disciples
couldn’t understand
the food He gave.
Indeed, “their hearts
were hardened.”

In our cars, we check our schedules,
engines idling. Thoughts
tumble and swirl,
the more
the less.
Soon enough
we’ll all be gone,
lines and empty spaces,
the sounds of traffic
far away.