For the darkness of waiting

Of not knowing what is to come

Of staying ready and quiet and attentive,

We praise you, o God.

For the darkness and the light are both alike to you.

For the darkness of staying silent

For the terror of having nothing to say

And for the greater terror

Of needing to say nothing,

We praise you, o God.

For the darkness and the light are both alike to you.

For the darkness of loving

In which it is safe to surrender

To let go of our self-protection

And to stop holding back our desire,

We praise you, o God.

For the darkness and the light are both alike to you.

For the darkness of choosing

when you give us the moment

to speak, and act, and change,

and we cannot know what we have set in motion,

but we still have to take the risk,

We praise you, o God.

For the darkness and the light are both alike to you.

For the darkness of hoping

In a world which longs for you,

For the wrestling and laboring of all creation

For wholeness and justice and freedom,

We praise you, o God.

For the darkness and the light are both alike to you.

Adapted from an Anglican Litany prayed in Canterbury Cathedral on April 18, 1986

Reprinted in “Womanprayers” by Mary Ford-Grabowsky