I bless the table as it leans and listens.
I bless the light as it loosens the morning.
I bless the kettle for speaking in steam.
Begin.

I name this spoon mercy, this mug I call rest,
this chipped blue plate patience, it passes the test.
Sticky notes flutter like tame little birds,
holding my hours with scribble and words.
I polish the doorknob with breath and a sleeve,
ask it to welcome and ask it to weave.
I bless the broom for its whispering swirls,
gathering crumbs into small shining worlds.

Bless this mess and all its variables,
labels on cables, fables on tables.
If sorrow arrives, then set two places,
salt into soup and light on faces.
Bless this house and all its parables,
love as the constant under the changeables.

I chalk the lintel with simple if then,
if friends are weary then let them in.
The welcome mat curls like a cat at the sill,
the hinges remember and sing when still.
I name these shoes kindness for roads that ache,
their laces learn knots that no storms can shake.
The clock says maybe as seconds play tag,
I tack up hope with a clothespin flag.

Bless this mess and all its variables,
spills and refills, the mended and wearable.
If night feels long, then warm the air,
hum low and slow till burdens share.
Bless these rooms and all their storables,
grace in the drawers and peace in the porables.

Patch notes on paper: swept the stoop,
watered the thyme, unknotted a loop.
Said sorry to Tuesday for rushing her by,
hung up my hurry and let it dry.
I tune the window with fingertip rain,
write tiny circles to soften the pain.
I bless the dust that dances in beams,
it keeps old stories in floating seams.

If cups are empty, then pour and pass.
If words are heavy, then speak like grass.
Return to breathing, commit to light.
Let tea be mercy, let mercy be right.

Bless this mess and all its variables,
laugh lines, lifelines, ordinary miracles.
If hearts throw errors, then catch and hold,
wrap them in wool against the cold.
Bless these hands and all repairables,
thread finds the tear and makes it wearable.

I name the silence listening friend,
I name the ending a way to mend.
Pantry spirits hide nutmeg until please,
teaching my wanting to bend its knees.
I lay the table for now not next,
folding the napkins like quiet text.
I bless the mess that proves we are here,
may love be constant when doubt draws near.

Bless this mess and all its variables,
crumb stars, jar moons, stories repairable.
If tides of trouble rise to the brim,
we pass the bread and learn to swim.
Bless our breath and all that carries us,
love is the constant, love is the generous.

So be it, little house.
So be it, little heart.
Enter, and eat.

bless this mess (and all its variables)

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bless this mess (and all its variables)

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