Threading a Needle


Perhaps you’ve sat for twenty minutes,

Or if far more holy than I am, for an hour or more,

And tried to pray with pure intensity,

Thinking of nothing but your wish

To be ONE with God.

It’s like sitting on a chair in bright sunlight,

Trying and trying to steady shaky hands

As you attempt to thread the eye of needle.

You lick the thread again and again.

You clean your reading glasses twice.

You turn off all music in the house.

Without concentration, you cannot focus,

Never reach the goal without steady purpose.

Again and again you try to thread the needle

Without saying “damn” or even worse.

Then suddenly as if a fog has lifted,

You see the eye of needle in your shaking hand

Has always had a thread—

Perhaps a thread so fine

It would heal a bleeding heart.