Finding Sabbath (a poem)

week51 pineapple

I Sabbath in quiet,

in the late, dark night

on the edges of Sunday

buried in the pages of a book

maybe savoring the sun-sweet bowl of pineapple in the late afternoon

I feel Sabbath good

in a momentary sigh

a slow inhale and a slower exhale

my body draped across a couch

conscious of my toes wiggling

I feel it’s holiness

in unhurried conversations

in decisions to not do,

to not clutter,

to not add one more thing

in unapologetic stillness and guilt-free day-dreams

in space to imagine other possibilities beyond our binaries, our violence, our walls

When rest re-calibrates me I’ve submitted to Sabbath well.



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3 thoughts on “Finding Sabbath (a poem)”

  1. Seth
     ·  Reply

    I’m wiggling my toes now.

  2. Joanna Dobson
     ·  Reply

    It’s restful just to read this! I love the idea of being recalibrated by Sabbath.

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