A miracle isn't the parting of the Red Sea
nor is it turning water into wine.
It doesn't take walking on water
for it to be divine--
nor making a blind man to see
for the very first time.

Real miracles happen daily;
it's just, nightly, we've been taught to see
only the animalistic and the scaly,
not the abundant but, yet, subtle acts of divinity.

They aren't some act of turning a staff into a snake.
They, at times, don't mirror casting demons from a pig.
A miracle's a man offering his body up for his family's sake,
when pushing 72 hours a week down the interstate
in his rig.

It's someone's kid calling a Lyft instead of driving.
It's also the kid who never tried a drink.
It's the kid who's now thriving
all because the one who did drive wound up in the precinct.

A miracle is the one who never tried the pills
and, equally, the one who submits to help if they did.
It's about finding a way to pay all the bills
while still attending the soccer games for your kid.

What's truly miraculous is when a child is found
courtesy of the Amber Alert sound
or when those of encampment grounds,
then, via various and vigorous volunteers,
have their life trajectory flipped around.

Real "miracle workers"
sort cans at food banks.
They're the saviours you may've never heard of
because they don't do it for thanks.

They're the ladle holder at soup kitchens,
the sponsors at AA's,
and the ones too busy for moaning and pitching
because they've, instead, chosen to pray.

Tell me it's not an annual miracle
we dance 584 million miles around the sun
or the fact it's been so consistently spherical
since our existence's day one.

Although, what's more miraculously incredible
than when someone who adores and studies you,
so intently and deeply, customizes something edible--
something so homecooked and catered to your every subconscious cew,
you've no logical argument their love isn't pure and true?

We sit around waiting for some freak miracle to motivate us--
for some inspirational moment that'll speak to our specific situation on the nightly news.
Spoiler Alert: There're no more miracles for men and women to invest their trust.
Good news: There doesn't need to be any; for, the miracle is and has always been you.

📕““What a Miracle Is Not” ” is a piece from my upcoming published anthology, “Return from the Pale Trail: Gifts to Humanity We’ve Been Taught to Forget.” I’m ecstatic to share this wonderful piece of literature with the family. I hope you all enjoy. Until then, feel free to check out my other published materials.