Language of the Ordinary

LANGUAGE OF THE ORDINARY

-- Laura Bardwell

Spirit, come;

sit at my soul's table.

Eat bread, drink wine.

Speak the language of the ordinary

broken in grace.

Come, and will you tell me the story of my faith?

Tell me again what it could become.

Open wide the doors of houses it might build

With your steady craftsman's skill.

Then go, visit others,

upturn the telling of their tales.

But leave an imprint of your visit

on this chair, the handle of the jug,

the cloth's stain.

Give at least the memory of your breath

to the smoke of candles spent

here at the edges of this room.