The Cranes

I’m suddenly aware of
How similar my life journey is
To something taught to me
Years ago by a wise woman,
My mother.

I am reminded how my life
Lies safely in the Hands
Of He who knows the beginning
And the end.
Of His folding the thin gossamer
Containing my whole life.
With a first simple fold
Of one corner to another,
And with each crease following
A little more complex
And little more intrinsic.
Each fold made precisely
With loving care,
The desired end in mind,
Until the final fold reveals
My own sacred flight
Crafted by His Hands.

So I have begun the ancient art
Of folding again,
The one taught to me by
My mother.
This time I fold them for her…
A thousand cranes
Each carrying their own prayer
To take flight with her
In the end.