What is this unfolding, this slow- going unraveling of gift held in hands open to the wonder and enchantment of it all? What is this growing, this rare showing, like blossoming of purple spotted forests by roadside grown weary with winter months? Seasons affected, routinely disordered by playful disturbance of divine glee weaving through limbs with sharpened shards of mirrored light, cutting dark spaces, interlacing creation, commanding life with whimsical delight. What is this breaking, this hopeful re-making, shifting stones, addressing dry bones, dizzying me with blessings, intercepting my grieving and raising the dead all around me?
This poem by Enuma Okoro first appeared in At the Still Point: A Literary Guide to Prayer in Ordinary Time, compiled by Sarah Arthur. It is reproduced here by permission of the poet.
Enuma Okoro is a writer and speaker on story, soul care, culture, and the arts. Born in the United States and raised in Nigeria, Côte d’Ivoire, and England, she holds a master of divinity degree from Duke Divinity School and is a certified spiritual director in the Ignatian tradition. In addition to being published in the New York Times, Artsy, Harper’s Bazaar, Vogue, and the Atlantic, she writes a weekly column, “The Art of Life,” for the Financial Times Weekend. She is the author of Reluctant Pilgrim: A Moody, Somewhat Self-Indulgent Introvert’s Search for Spiritual Community and Silence and Other Surprising Invitations of Advent and a co-editor of Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals and Talking Taboo: American Christian Women Get Frank About Faith. Follow her on Twitter @EnumaOkoro and Instagram @enums.
3 thoughts on ““Morning Reflections” by Enuma Okoro”
Thank you for sharing the gift of this luminescent poem today – much needed for my soul.
“Addressing dry bones, dizzying me with blessings.” Thanks a bunch; it is refreshing.
Wow! What a beautiful way to start me morning!