Frog and Bird Prayer

The voice of God like a bird or frog meets me in the garden between, beneath the boxwoods and azaleas; shade with spots of sun, no sound but the natural world the way it was born. No sound but God. I did not know this was something that might feel hard to get someday. Someday like today. Can I invoke you, God, and the return of that kind of sanctuary? Do I have the audience, the right words, the faith for that? The faith and the love for the world that I was born with? Let me put down the bags that I have carried so far, strip down and find that living, thriving rest -- where my body and mind are whole and actually one thing. Where my love makes sense to the world that bore me. Where I can get my hands around the actual solid root of myself, and then enter the orbit with every other living thing. The sad society will try to sell to me that I may have to die for this, but I know I may instead have to live for this; and of that I am much more scared. God, come to me with the matter-of-fact voice of the frog or bird and remind me how to get to that garden. Amen.