Deep calls to deep
at the thunder of your torrents;
all your waves and your billows
have gone over me. -Psalm 43
They look silver, those birds, that fly over the Bow River,
the way that cliff of cloud traps the liquid light of dawn,
to bless the wings
of what I see now are common terns.
Later, crossing the pitted parking lot outside a strip mall:
“Look, Mummy, that stone, it’s so wonderful!”
The mother hesitates, tugs the tiny hand, then stops,
squats down, “I didn’t notice, Vanessa, it is wonderful!”
“Hear this, O Job, stop and consider
the wondrous works of God.”
Hear this, I say to my soul, disrobe your ego,
unlock your light, free the newborn heart
of your unseparated self, emerging
in unity with the terns and the rocks
and the pitiless parking lot,
and the losers of history,
and the suffering of the innocent—awake,
under the dark night of amazement.
And the hours, detrivialized,
the grief of a neighbour, realized,
our earth in its agony, clearly perceived,
our tribal rends, the sickening wars,
the genocidal horror across the water,
will cause a physical retching, an emptying-suffering.
This is a sign of our healing—a thickening
of compassion; and every injustice
evoking our cries of resistance.
The world through the eyes of the innocent. Thanks for the reminder, Stephen.
Exactly. Thanks for this Kirk.
Spring clouds and rainfall
A day full of busy-ness
Still there is wonder
Yes. Thank you, Katy.
Thanks Stephen. The emptying-suffering and the thickening of compassion. I’m not sure we can have one without the other. It is so easy, too easy, to become hardened. As always, thanks for the reminder!
I agree Ann, they go together. Thanks so much for responding.
This is a sign of our healing—a thickening
of compassion; and every injustice
evoking our cries of resistance.
Could there be a better poem for this particular summer? I am scribbling your words into a green notebook, for reading and re-reading. Thank you Stephen.
Thank you, Linda. I’m truly grateful for your kindness and encouragement.
Thanks, Steve – this one took a bit of work.
It takes a disrobed ego, an unlocked light, a newborn heart to know the unity of oneself with the rest of creation – including the pitiless parking lot (!).
Thus then equipped to resist the injustices….
The process of disrobing seems to be lifelong, aided by embarrassments, encounter with good people with already disrobed egos, and in my case at least, the wisdom of a discerning and fiercely loving wife.
Thanks, Sam, for your extra pondering. Clearly, ego disrobing is a lifelong project. I love that you’ve included Erika in the process. (As I include Deb.)