Liturgy of the Sixth Hour Let us attend to the staircase. Let us attend to the voice that summons us down. For the cord that watches over sleep is holy. For the hand that reaches in half-dark is holy. For the clouds that break above the roofline at six o'clock— We give thanks. Let us name the stations of descending: The creak of the fifth step. The cold of the banister under the palm. The turn where the light changes from grey to yellow. Let us confess: We were not present. We were in the meeting. We were in the forecast. We were in the wind. But the child called, and the body answered before the mind did, and the stairs received our weight as stairs have always done— without comment, without collapse. For every descent is an act of faith. For every Daddy is a summoning. For every dusk is the sixth hour when the world asks: Will you come down? We will come down. We will come down. Amen.