Much of the symbolism in worship centered around water during a recent professional development retreat near the Gulf of Mexico. That makes sense - we could see the ocean from outside our classroom.

A group of us "students" volunteered to create the closing worship and I though of this poem. We did not end up using it, but given that today we are in the midst of a winter storm, it seems appropriate to post.

By Tess Baumberger

Ah Adonai, Kali,

I have been the turbulent ocean

Frenzied by the winds into steep dark liquid hills

Crashing into bitter valleys

Powerless in the gale’s fury.

Ah, Adonai, Kali, I have been the turbulent ocean.

Oh Allah, Brahmin,

I have been the restlessness of the ordinary sea,

Its incessant worrying waves

Wringing its saline fingers

At the moon’s constant variations,

Excesses of moody thought,

Brooding threat of silent resentment.

Oh Allah, Brahmin,

I have been the restlessness of the ordinary sea.

Ah Kwan Yin, Grandmother,

Let me become the slowing of the deep

As it comes upon the outward islands,

Entranced by their more constant shores.

Let my soul ponder their rocky edges,

Savor their cinnamon and sugar sands.

Let me drink the honeyed milk of the tender streams

Flowing towards me from the mountains.

Let me slip inside the shelter

Of the quiet cove to idle

In the wide hollow of Grace.

Let my tides whisper in and out

Conspiring with the seaweed,

Thrilling the tidal grasses.

Oh Kwan Yin, Grandmother,

Let me become the slowing of the deep.