Gathered

Gather me, Spirit.
Gather me into this moment
an hour of quiet and solitude
an hour to set aside my phone
and the addictive scrolling search for
connection or meaning or distraction.
Here I am.

Gather me, Spirit.
Gather me from my worries,
from the lists and loose ends
that are waiting for me when I wake
and from my need for them
to make me feel important and worthwhile.
What good is it
if a woman gains the whole world
but loses her soul?
Here I am.

Gather me, Spirit,
as I choose to be gathered
and to gather myself –
from the far-flung corners
where I am wandering, lost,
having given myself away
too much, too soon,
to busy battles
that are not mine to fight.
Here I am.

Kind Spirit,
gather me kindly.
Speak softly to my fear
that nothing holds together;
disaster waits darkly in the wings
and if I stop spinning for one moment
everything will finally fall apart.
Speak softly to my fear
that if for once I stop wandering
and quietly come home
I will find nothing
but a hollow, empty shell.

Wise Spirit,
gather me wisely,
you who know me
better than I know myself.

I do what I can:
I come, I sit, I turn off the screens.
I give my time, my attention,
as much of my heart, mind, soul
as I know, as I can.
I dare to believe in my substance and yours.
I dare to be found.

Please do what I cannot:
Gather me into the shape
that has always been mine
and the shape I can become.
Gather me to you,
the centre that holds.
I am here.
I am yours.

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