A prayer from a nightmare

                                                      O God

who  stands in the midst when brutality covers the world with  unspeakable grief.

One lone tall blonde gunman fires methodically and confidently at young summertime souls in Norway.

Death bullets bring fresh blood to the swimming waters of fun off Utoya Island.

A mass murderer claiming to live out his religion smiles with success.

Forgive us for distortions of life when murder is confused with being faithful. Forgive all of us when we hurt others and claim we are doing justice.

Forgive us for all the confusions and killings and crazy righteousness lived out in the name of God in Norway and throughout the years.

                                                   O God

of  the world within and the world of the countries and the vastness and peoples of all lands

Receive our tears. Receive our broken hearts. Receive all prayers stretched from the raw sensitivities of our souls.

Evil visits our world and we do not ever understand.

O God whose tears reach deep as we sadly grieve and regret the Norway massacre.

                                                   The Scandinavian Killings  July 22, 2011

Wild Girl

Wild Girl

Before she arrived order had tucked everything into it’s place

And instantly all of that was changed

Everywhere she would land disarray

Order became mess

She flew about smiling and having fun

And gave me a hug and told me she loved me and smiled

And made me an completely sugar coated pile of icing with chocolate bits all green and blueberry and red and she laughed when I ate it and happiness covered her all over and then she told me she had learned to count money and could she show me

Immediately we were lost in a table of coins and she left to go home for bedtime was calling and I walked around the house and found pile after pile of places she had left behind of papers and toys and food for the outside animals and her smile and life was all over everything.

Wild Girl had been here, in all her wander of 7 years old, and the place where I had been living with things tucked in was now untucked, out of place, filled with giggles and running about with

 life in all its ways of being and once again I learned how order is another name for death,  and mess and disarray are names given for little spirits that have come out of the box into something that breathes and feels and lets the heart burst into a thousand ways of living as the  sun rises.

Wild Girl’s gift is that uncomfortable feeling of being alive.