Blessed are the words, in every tongue.
Blessed are the arms that swaddle us.
Blessed are the midwives and teachers and hospice workers, guiding us into this world and out.
Blessed are the dancers.
Blessed are the gazelles, the sea otters, the bees.
Blessed are the moments of joy. And pain.
Blessed are the unanswered questions.
Blessed are the arms that swaddle us.
Blessed are the midwives and teachers and hospice workers, guiding us into this world and out.
Blessed are the dancers.
Blessed are the gazelles, the sea otters, the bees.
Blessed are the moments of joy. And pain.
Blessed are the unanswered questions.
Blessed is the name that holds them all.
Blessed are you, Divine Mystery, who puzzled our ancestors as you puzzle us. You are the tango of melody and harmony in the mouths of your people. You are hard laughter and weeping. Let us praise you with art and study and wonder. Let us argue with you. Let us wrestle.
You are one and we, your many parts. Blessed are you, in all the forms you take.
