Briefly It Enters, and Briefly Speaks by Jane Kenyon

While stopping at Starbucks today, I saw this poem. I looked at the author’s other poems on Poets.org, and I like her stuff a lot. But this one really resonates with me, the redemption, the common grace, the way that God is moving all around us. If we will only have the eyes to see.

—–

Briefly It Enters, and Briefly Speaks by Jane Kenyon

I am the blossom pressed in a book,
found again after two hundred years. . . .

I am the maker, the lover, and the keeper. . . .

When the young girl who starves
sits down to a table
she will sit beside me. . . .

I am food on the prisoner’s plate. . . .

I am water rushing to the wellhead,
filling the pitcher until it spills. . . .

I am the patient gardener
of the dry and weedy garden. . . .

I am the stone step,
the latch, and the working hinge. . . .

I am the heart contracted by joy. . .
the longest hair, white
before the rest. . . .

I am there in the basket of fruit
presented to the widow. . . .

I am the musk rose opening
unattended, the fern on the boggy summit. . . .

I am the one whose love
overcomes you, already with you
when you think to call my name. . . .

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