High Desert Mesa Prayer



Let my prayer be this living pool of tears.

Cistern of mourning, my body.


Let each droplet cast earthward by the organ of sight,

disperse in every direction, known and unknown.


May each droplet of pure, human feeling, each droplet 

of stabbing loss, harrowing pain, disappointment and ravished

pride, join molecularly within the sightless movement of the wind.


Let the wind blow every sealed hatch away 

from the divine wound that is your heart.


Let yourself, let all of you live in the wind.

Let its gentleness arrange your hair, your position in space.


Let it dry your mouth so that you cannot speak.


Then you will hear its every holographic word. 

The word that is the whole and part of the world--

that is the world and that will be the world.


The world where you are the favorite, shining grandchild 

held in the embrace of someone older than you can imagine.


Let the walls where you live be made of this wind.

Readying you to be infinite, even as you give praise 

for your sheltering home of air.


Let yourself stand free in its rush and push 

against your body until you are gone.


Let the wind make you real.  Substantial.


Did no one tell you?


The wind is the mind of God.



Abbie Conant

September 11, 2012

Taos , NM