This is not the time of waiting,
of strategies and scratching your chin—
this is movement, like creation, like destruction.
Like the way the tide knows roll by roll
how to creep up the beach, drawing smooth stones
into the belly of the deep.
This is like the raindrop, heavy at the end of the branch,
its tether first a snail-tail, then a pinpoint
then a falling.
Can you hear the ocean boom its approval?
So often we wait for God to act.
But don’t you really understand?
the action, my friend, Is God.
Find the entire poetry collection This Nurturing Awe: Poems Inspired by the 99 Beautiful Names of God at