Pocket Poem #6: Daily Prayers

Twice a day I

praise the pills

I cup from

hand to lip;

they help

to keep

me well. I

wonder how such

small things

can be sacred

things that make

life real and

possible.

I comb my hair,

I brush my teeth,

I poke jewels

into my ears.

Is not the art

of being well

a grand affair,

enough to inspire

art, music,

and poetry?

The measures

we take to

make ourselves

what we want

to give of ourselves

to the world

are ruled by

scales too large —

it is not size

but the clarity

of reality I

long for.

Two tiny pebbles

in the palm

of the hand,

blue and white

and oblong;

these help me

keep the practice

of my art:

they are this

morning’s Lauds,

this evening’s

Vespers song.