A Blessing for/from St. Gobnait

(who sought the places of her resurrections)

Oh God…I humbly ask: may I be blessed to know that I am dead.

For when I’m honest,

I can admit I have forgotten

that resurrection requires assent.

To sputter to life again (my revival)

requires me ready to see,

able to say,

willing to sense the ways

that I have shriveled and decayed.

To pour a new wine

into leathered, old skins

means inspection and attendance

to each crack and crevice

lying thirsty for balm.

Not just hope.

But hope helps.

Not just faith.

But faith helps.

Rather, a good hard stare

with eyes wide and sights wider –

an honest, broken heart

is all that could get it begun.

So may I know, Oh God,

of my sanctified demise,

for there is no return from the grave

if I know not

that I was ever gone.