A Prayer

(Found here)

Holy One, forever unfolding

like weather, forgive:

these grapes will not

ripen into wine.

They are too sour,

the flesh too thick.

So let me lay them in the sun

to sweeten for a time

and I will tell what I know

of seasons and sorrow,

of kindnesses untendered

and the soul’s long wounds,

so that someday, perhaps,

when I awaken, we may

look into each other’s eyes

and drink raisin wine together.

~Robert Hudson (from The Father Zosima Poems)