For all that we dress worship
in fancy robes,
loose silk or thick brocade,
it is really just a simple thanks.
It is the act of grateful pause,
the uncertain offering of just one
cherished thing,
or even the hole where it used to reside,
and a pause for noticing
how that one beloved
is attached to more,
like the tip of a magician’s bright scarf
that can be tugged endlessly.
It is the necessary humbling
that comes from remembering
the vast expanse,
both inside and out,
a thank you without words
that may find a way to fit into them,
or drip into music
or the rustle of gathered breathing.
And this can be a guide
when you are lost
in the many exhortations;
to listen for the voice
that rings the most true joy
to free your gratitude.