Some words from the Son

Avá Joy Sloan

These days it is the birds I listen to most

empty of opinion or belief

a simple profound stream of being animates them

feeling, relating, sensing, knowing…

this life is not devoid

but a complex web of interconnectedness

a purity of existence.

Birds can walk, but choose to fly instead

why wouldn’t they sing and fly overhead?

Light work of the winged brings sweet nectar

of the boundless, to the bound

of heavens, to earth.

So her people might taste the splendor

of what it is to Be,

Here.

I am sure I was once a bird,

and now all I can do is sit and watch and listen

and pray that my heart be like one of their nests;

a place of soft refuge, warm and open where love can grow

forever ready to be blown open by the winds of change

moved by a grace beyond itself,

for the bird knows for everything there is a season,

a time for everything, under heaven.