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beingblog:

I hear echoes of this T. S. Eliot poem everywhere, but especially today, on Ash Wednesday:

Blessed sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit of the garden,
Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still
Even among these rocks,
Our peace in His will
And even among these rocks
Sister, mother
And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,
Suffer me not to be separated

And let my cry come unto Thee.

(Photo by Bob Mical on Flickr)

A poem for Ash Wednesday

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