Hannah L Stone

this is where I write the light
the temple of the ordinary

the temple of the ordinary

unnamed-4
.The Temple of the Ordinary.

It is in the bending low
to tie the shoe
to clean the spill
again again again
to scoop and pick
the rag limp tantrum from the floor.
How we hold court in our hearts for More.
Peeping over castle walls to see.
Thinking it is Up and
Further Out; than just across the hall.
How we’ve been duped into Living Lie.
Not believing that this little
really is the oh, so very big.
If you, if I, If we, keep hunting and
looking for the Up and Further Out
we miss the Here and Now.
This daily demanding beauty that blooms
fire, angry red and fades to sunset pink, golden
on the edge; fireworks burst of life
again again again.
Temple is, but not only just
spire, steeple, bricks and dust.
How temple is me. Is you.
Is them – their little sticky hands.
How temple is us together.
First in them, the three in one; a royal family.
It is in the bending low
collecting socks to wash and fold
to clean to wipe to dry to hold
again again again.
How but if we could only, please,
we beg, oh please, to see
for only just a glimpse
this temple of the ordinary
this sacrifice
this Here this Now
this offering of liturgy
the waking up
again again again
this, the only holy place to finally live free.

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