| They exhaust me who preach the world is mine to make, |
| as though without me – or someone sadly like me – there is |
| no epic tale of light’s procession here, no narrative of tides |
| or of desiring birds. Is this what they, bedside |
| tell their children? Out here, in dawn’s half-light, |
| where the world makes me whole – us whole – I praise the narrow inlet, |
| its brackish story, that warbler nearby getting it said – I am here. |
By Brad Davis
Questions & Actions
- Think of a profound experience you had outdoors. Where were you? Who were you with? What were you viewing? Doing? What about that time echoed Brad’s last line that you were there?
- What is the world without us? Is the world ours to make? Or are you skeptical like the poem?
- Today, regardless, imagine the world is not yours to make. Instead, imagine it all as gift. A gift isn’t yours to make, but to receive. Take a moment today, and receive it. Perhaps this is through silence, prayer, or finding a place where you can proclaim that you were there.
