A Blessing on a Flattened Patch of Grass
Chosen with care
For the gentle incline
And the view,
And in hope for some space around it,
Though there never was
As others pitched closer,
With their snoring and giggling
And intense late night whispers,
Which we forgave,
As they forgave us.
The grass was hidden from the heaven’s opening,
Colliding fast, black clouds,
The whipped wind,
And brilliant August sunshine
But it heard us talking quietly
Of what we did and did not like
And whether God was here.
The grass knew us as we stretched out
And remembered why friends returned
And us with them.
How we loved their older faces
And their ever-blossoming children,
Putting this place into their hearts
With yearly repetition.
The soft, long grass was already springing back
Remembering the light
And what it was for.
I reached down to touch it,
Knowing someone was watching,
A woman bending in a field
To thank the ground she’d slept on.
Rhian Roberts