by Jo Taylor
You’ve spoken through donkeys, burning bushes, wall writings, and even blood. You have whispered, you have shouted, you have called us by name. So today, Lord, speak, in whatever medium you choose and, pray, O, God, do not let us miss the message. Speak through the yellow-beaked, orange-breasted, not-so-shy robin, flitting about our feet; in the scurrying, red-tailed fox squirrel, peeking from the forked limbs of the live oak, as if to say, I am worth the camera; in the pink and white crepe myrtles, their papery, cinnamon- colored, sometimes leprosy-looking, trunks gracing entrances to medical buildings; and in the newly-flowering redbuds, purpling with passion. Speak through the flutter of angel wings, the silence of stars, through the chaos of sickness, through soft sinking sun. You who have made us, and not we, ourselves, come and commune with your people. We confess we know not why you will and how you will, but that you will.
Jo Taylor is a retired, 35-year English teacher from Georgia. Her favorite genre to teach high school students was poetry, and today she dedicates more time to writing it, her major themes focused on family, place, and faith. She says she writes to give testimony to the past and to her heritage. In 2021 she published her first collection of poems, Strange Fire. She enjoys walking in early morning, playing with her two grandsons, and collecting and reading cookbooks.