These Days

At seven-thirty the sun
wrestles through violet clouds
and slaps the windows
with its fiery tail, hushing
the cats and their scatter-dance,
leading them as if in a trance
to the top of the stairs
where it opens its white coat
and ushers them in.
I walk through this day bedazzled,
startled by the concept
of life as spiritual practice:
the sacred act of stepping back,
allowing stressful words
and situations tossed my way
to travel through me,
no tattered residue left
behind, this miracle
of heavenly transcendence.
My ministry is simple—
to seek the love and peace
lining the hidden pocket
of the present moment.
And the walls of resistance
in my body continue
to crumble, as my soul
slowly uncoils like a cat
pulling itself from a sunny nap—
these days spent in the lap
of sweet surrender.

–Laura Stamps