Thin Places (In Celtic tradition where the veil that separates heaven and earth is lifted)
by Alice Feeley, RDC
At the beach
only a child jumps with wonder
at ocean’s colossal spread,
waits in wet sand for stories
washed up in curious shapes and shards,
scans arching waves
for a new friend, longed for and ready
to outrun swift tides. Only a child
spots the space where sand turns into sky,
learns the games of playmate gulls and crabs,
hears in blowing wind a song of hovering Spirit
that will uncover the world
even when the child disappears
into years of shifting shorelines,
mucky earth, sky turned into sand.
A river shimmers silver when night has been complete.
A door cracks open for mystery missed.
Rocks in shadow startle with faces waited for,
breaking waves catch the rhythm of a promised voice.
In deep woods something eternal is unveiled,
on crowded streets nothing separates from the breath of peace.
Whenever a child’s heart is restored,
there are glimpses of what is true,
sightings of thin places, thresholds of the Spirit’s love.
Someone is ready to be seized by surprise
wherever the divine is passing by.