Last night the word angel visited me in a dream.
She whispered, “Mary, look at the word truth.
To my surprise, the word ruth is hidden plainly inside it.
This completes a poem begun ten years ago.
I’ll finish it now. Here goes:
Today I feel secure, satisfied, serene and sure-footed
as a goat on a rocky hillside eating grass under a blue sky.
Today I claim my own growing self-love and self-acceptance.
Today I give myself a new name, “Ruth.”
Ruth is an archaic word meaning compassion.
Today I will be ruthless in ignoring dust, bills I must pay
phone calls and dirty dishes while I own my own mercy
my softheartedness, my charity, my compassion.
Today I remember and reclaim my own ruth.
Today I stand tall on the hillside of my spacious heart
as I savor this tender truth: I am ruth.
I am ruth for me first, then for you and for all of us.
At heart you are, too. We are all ruth. Goats are, too
and stones and grass and hillsides and the great blue sky.
Here’s the best hidden truth: God’s secret name is Ruth.