God of burning trash heaps and of flickering flames of hope,
God of monsters we fear and monsters we’ve made and monsters we recognize:
Quiet us. Turn down the volume with us. Remind us to hush and listen.

We are tired most days, and especially today.
Each hour feels precious,
But even an extra hour of sleep can’t seem to catch us up.
Our muscles twitch, our hearts skip, our breaths catch,
And each tiny tic threatens a new norm of unease.

Move with us through our everyday losses and through our significant losses,
Through our wins and our worries.
Remind us that walking isn’t something just done with legs, but with our lives,
That dancing isn’t something just done with bodies, but with our souls,
That the works we do, that the moves we make in the world are an art,
Continuously honed and continuously reformed,
If we will hush and listen, and then act. 

This quiet is us moving and waiting and gathering and preparing,
But it is also just quiet.
Quiet is not simply the moment of anticipation before the main event.
Quiet is the main event.

Fill this quiet with memory and curiosity.
Fill this quiet with honesty and interest,
With difference and intersection,
With things we think we understand and things we’ll never understand.

Help us to sustain and build this community,
And teach us to hold those without community.
Listen to us and listen with us.
Show us the infinite within the finite,
The beginnings within our endings,
The flickering within the burning,
And nudge us forward in the quiet of it all.