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Infant stars in a nearby galaxy – Photo taken by Hubble Telescope. http://hubblesite.org/gallery/album/entire/pr2007004a/warn/

I thought I knew everything.
certain of what I would be doing –
this act of giving, a gift for the world.
I exuded confidence in my preparation,
all clearly proving the stars
were rightly aligned. Nothing
left to chance.
I was ready.

I knew nothing at all.
I was prepared for
nothing of substance.
Above my ignorance, I heard
angels laughing, felt
a stern compassion, the calm
of God’s grace – stark contrast
to the vibrating uncertainty
rattling my soul.

That fear could play a part
in this precious gift I carried
was overlooked; part of the fine print
that I carelessly ignored.  Hooked
by the hand-me-down hype, I gladly
signed on the dotted line, and boldly
winked at the cobalt sky that smiled
upon me and my resolve.

I knew nothing.  I
thought I knew everything.
The hard work began
and my eyes were opened.
Not my gift alone, but more;
it was your labor, the grinding
force of your submission, emerging
from dark to dark, light to light;
behind and beyond all, it was God’s
gift of creation-life-giving-breath.
And I felt love newly born
when I saw your face;
felt your heart against my own.
I knew I did not give, but
willingly, gratefully


My Gentle Readers, I wish for you all the abundance of enough. . .


(This poem is a combined response to two separate prompts:  Sidey’s Weekend Theme, “Birth,” and The Sunday Whirl’s Wordle #55.  I invite all of you to visit the sites through these links and read the wonderfully varied and creative work being done by so many writers on a weekly basis.)