Give –
at the bending of the knee,
at the turning-down of the sheets,
at the folding of the hands in sleep –
give, receive and rest.
Give the day:
its unresolved agonies,
its fragments, its drafts
and all the things we’d best forget.
Give, and let it sleep.
Receive:
the table lies open.
Feast as the night declares:
Sufficient to itself the burdens
and stresses of the morn.
So rest:
the creek bids you lap, unweary.
Your enemies will not dare come
within an inch of where you lie.
The night is now your friend.
And watch:
in tender mercy,
the dawn from on high
will break in fold of light and bring
new truth to bear on all.
The Consolations of Writing 