A Poem: Counting

Teach me to number my days God.

Teach me how
to put down a numeral,
to place it in your hands.

Not to measure it out,
not to attempt to live to its extent.
Its length and height,
and stretch.

Not to worry myself about
the filling.

But help me to sit.

To sit and count my fingers,
slow,
where they fall on the space of your page,
open –

your living Word.

And see who comes to mind
for prayer,
the daily surrendering.

Give it all up, up,

to watch the room fill with love –
the desire for the best good.

And teach me to live unencumbered
into the unknown days
with the prayers that have made a road –

the length of them behind,
in front.
That we, together,
have paved the way.

You and I.

Our hands making
with patterns of thought,
with intention,
pictures of possibility,
that each day can be numbered one.

One, again –
even though we might in truth be
three quarters through.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
July 2020

‘God may call you to lead the charge,
or he may lead you to a quiet life
of profound consequence.’
Sarah Bessey

6 thoughts on “A Poem: Counting”

  1. Thank you Ana for this beautiful reminder ❤️ From the Northumbria Community’s Celtic Daily Prayer (Midday Prayer) — “Teach us, dear Lord, to number our days; that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom. Oh, satisfy us early with Thy mercy, that we may rejoice and be glad all of our days. And let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us; and establish Thou the work of our hands. And let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us; and establish Thou the work of our hands, dear Lord.”

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    1. Thank you Michael, that is certainly a prayer that speaks to me, speaks of a God who loves the beauty of creation and you cannot create something you are already not, so speaks to me also of such a beautiful God. This beauty which inspires my poetry.
      Thank you for sharing.

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