The story says fall, and I fall to my knees
onto streets paved with refuse and waste;
breathing fumes of the fuel that the highway consumes
I fall with a gasp to my knees.
Underneath paved domain slumbers dust from the stars-
of this I am fashioned and made;
but the ground of my standing is holy, corrupt-
I stumble and fall to my knees.
Spirit encumbers the inchoate self,
my body of water and thirst;
the weight of her will to create bends my frame-
strength revealed in the yield of my knees.
Myself, spoke by God, my evil and good,
are unknown to me but that I fall;
in hunger I reach far beyond my safe grasp
and I fall into grace on my knees.
From Lifting Women’s Voices: Prayers to Change the World. New York: Morehouse Publishing, 2009.
