GRACE

now that you mention it

it falls on me unbidden
unasked for it just exists
like the hum of the refrigerator
the air of the kitchen fragrant
with bread baking or dough rising
it comes from god

undeserved I get it by believing
I’ll get it the conundrum
of parodox or faith
for I already have it
even if I don’t ask but just
sit zazen kneel in supplication
waiting for it to descend on me
as present as the sunshine in the desert

when I concentrate
on goodness or evil it is there
the butchers of Srebrenica have it
the child molesters and rapists have it
no law can be obeyed so I’ll get more than you
no good work I do, no notch in my belt

no higher degree, no hierarchical church
no donation to Amnesty International
United Way Salvation Army Red Cross
no pilgrimage to help Mother Theresa
in the slums of Calcutta or Bombay
no assisted suicide or careless abortion
can give me more or less of it than you have
now that you speak of it I get it
graciously or gracelessly
receiving it in a host of symbols
it sleeps with the slave trader
who wrote the amazing pentatonic song
it wakes with the ghost rattling in the hallway
rising resonating from deepest depths of dreams
if you don’t get it this time
you can be born again

© Jane Piirto 1997