Riffing on Psalm 139 and food:
Lord, you search me, plumb me down to atoms,
dive into me, know the deepest fathoms.
Every moment, resting, reaping, rising,
every thought before my heart's devising,
every step is known ere I begin it.
Every breath I take, you are within it.
I could run, but I would not escape you;
shut the door, but still your light would break through.
I could climb a ladder to the heavens:
You would be on every rung ascending.
Though I turn and leave you far behind me,
even in the depths of hell you'd find me.
You know what I do before I will it,
know my every need—then, Lord, come fill it.
See my hands are lying empty, open;
see them take the bread this world has broken.
You, who even at the farthest shores dwell,
come be present in the smallest morsel.
Bless the gifts of rain and sun and labor;
bless me; make me kith and kin and neighbor.
We all know the taste of hope and hunger:
You know all of us, above and under,
everywhere we run, to west and easting.
Bring us all, then, safe into your feasting.
Hands at the Cuevas de las Manos upon Río Pinturas, near the town of Perito Moreno in Santa Cruz Province, Argentina. Picture By Mariano – Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=265811
Kate Bluett 