In Emptiness We Find God

There is a drive
A hunger or thirst
Within us all.
Some see it as the struggle
To be with family.

Some hope to find it
In the nearness and
Proximity of one sibling to
The other, maybe
Both parents nearby.


There is a sense of safety,
If all went well when one was raised.
There is a feeling of peace, of comfort
To see the familiar,
To hear the voices which have
Spoken throughout our
Lifetimes.


There is the drive to be with newborn
Children of children
To welcome them into the arena
Of peace and intimacy,
To invite them to be new
Participants in the life we
Have made for ourselves.


Yet, there are those families
That do not connect,
Those siblings who scatter at
The age of maturity.
Those parents who rarely see
Their children because of geography.

There are those fearful souls who
Cling to what they desire but never was,
Who mourn the disconnection, the
Inability to share the heart,
The loss of intimacy which they crave but,
do not recognize in any other disguise
But what they imagine.


This deep down yearning, this
Hunger for connection is
Never fulfilled to our expectations. It is
A God-ward desire disguised by human faces,
This emptiness waiting to be filled with peace, intimacy
With bliss, is underneath it all. Emptiness is
The call of God, the God-ward pull of
Our hearts, our lives, which never can be finally
Fulfilled until our
Life is found by God and
abandoned by us.


We place a heavy burden on siblings,
parents, friends
To fulfill our deepest yearning,
We make others responsible for our peace
When only God can make it so in the end!
The inner ache is never healed, nor sated
until we look beyond family
and discover God.



Richard W Smith
December 21,2010

Winter's Divine Painter

White
   snowflakes
   cover Morton
   highlighting
   everything that was
   hidden
   through the summer months.

Winter
   starkness
   emptiness
   underbrush cleared
   burned
   dragged away
   and what was
    hidden now is
    revealed.

Hiding
   places of
   deer
   coyote
   hawk
   are exposed
    as they
    go
    deeper and deeper
    into the
    wildness
    further from
    footpaths
    trails
    roads
     to find the
     solitary peace
     for life.

They'll
   remain
   invisible
   except for footprints
   in snow
   on branches
    bearing
    high winds
    sometimes blizzard
     always searching
      to survive
      to feed
      yet out sight.

Snow
   tracing dead
   trees
   fallen branches
   fall's weeds hanging on
   and pathways
    long abandoned
    by fair-weather
    nature enthusiasts.

I wear
   the scarf
    pulled down
    as a hat
   I buldge with down
    feather insulation
   slog in
    insulated boots
   carrying the
    freezing eye with me
     out to the hidden
     places
     to spy on life
     in the wild
     in the wilderness
     and return to bring
      reports to those
     who have discovered
      God in the
       wild,
      God within the
       frozen snow covered
        creation.

The Divine
   has
   enjoyed
   painting
   Winter!



Richard W Smith
December 1, 2010
 

On Walking Through the Forest Preserve

God dusted the forest this morning.
   a little white outline over the trees
   highlighting some stand out members of
   the tree population.

I walked along the path
   which was covered in white as well.
   The trees were wind tossing snow
   that slid down my collar
   giving me a freezing start!

The white dusting brought out depth
   to the forest. I now was able to see
   deeply behind and beyond the usual view
   that I'd pay attention to.

The cold winds, the light snowfalkes jumping
   from the highest branches, sliding down to the
   forest floor waiting to mix and grow
   next spring, waiting to thaw from freezing times.

Maybe God dusts these trees to awaken our attention
   to help us see deeply, to love beauty, to
   shake free from ordinary routines.
   Maybe just to give us a start when the flakes find
   a loose fitting collar and skate down our backs!





Richard W Smith
December 5, 2010

Tree Hospitality

Trees have a gift for
   hospitality.

They welcome each
   wing clad discoverer,
   searcher, wanderer, and
   homesick body.
They give them a place to BE
   at home.

No protest just open arms;
Bark and branches
Bugs and berries
leaves and nests
all offered freely.

Hospitality is not
   passive!



Richard W Smith

Coyote

Do you see him

(I’m thinking it’s a him, could be a her)

that young coyote

running along

(maybe “speeding along” is a better description)

And moving away from you and me.

His brown and tan fur highlighted

By the fall colors;

The red bushes, yellow weeds passing away

And the green grass which is slowly disappearing,

Even some yellow brush in the distance,

And against all that the bright blue sky.

I wonder if he’ll find what he’s looking for.

Whether she will remember this moment when two

Humans stood still (finally) and pointed

A finger at him.

Do you think he/she thought it a rifle barrel?

Certainly his kind have heard those throughout the years.

His tapered thin face seems to point to a

Grin as he dashes along

For the next safe haven, for the next meal,

For some solitude to plan his next

Escapade.

Wonder how old she’ll get. Imagine

if she’s a she if she’ll have some puppies

to prolong the grin and smile?

Do you think she’ll hide around here?

Maybe keep moving to find another spot-

Tough life, to keep moving like that.

Some life forms get bad raps-

They do what they do, it’s built in

But when they do not fit into our civilization

Well, I don’t have to tell you what happens do I?

So much grace and beauty

Her movement is like a dance

She spent one moment in our lives

And such an impact for so

Short a visit!

 
 
Richard W Smith
December 13, 2010

The Song of the Universe

I've been to Morton Arboretum
   many times for
   over four years;
   walking, driving, sitting,
   touching, listening, gazing at
   the trees, the earht,the wildness.

I've recorded over and over again
   by camera photographs of
   every experience-and even
   caught people unaware in pixels.

So, recently, the joy has worn off; the
   wonder and amazement of all that
   is and makes up this wonderful garden.

I'd thought I'd seen it all, heard every local bird-song,
   watched every deer and coyote and heard the wings of
   hawk as they swooped down to an unsuspecting mole.

I'd grown sad that there was nothing left to photograph
   I'd despaired of seeing deeper, looking more closely
   hearing the song of the universe,
   the one in the tiny many.

But, at the right time, creeping so slowly
   an experience called "mindfulness"
   paying attention to the moment
   the experience of being aware of what is
   right before my eyes and in my life
   surfaced with a start.

I follow this path faultingly in my journey
   I am continually invited and welcomed into
   the deeper spaces of reality
   beyond the surface sheen and sounds
   to walk in the dpeths of the streams of
   life
   to discover the part each living creature
   plays in the make-up
   of my life.


Richard W Smith
December 12, 2010

"God Is On the Other Side"

God is on the other
   side of the lake.
  over there at a distance.
Sometimes as I look out my
   living room window 
   fog covers my view
   of God!
Snow bands white out
   my view
God is there
   distant.
I see glimpses at a distance
As God walks along the
   shore.
No cooking fish,
   just a casual stroll along
   the beach.
One day with binoculars
   in hand, I notice
God is looking at me,
   through the fog and
   snow bands,
   through the strong winds and
   deep nights
God sees me looking
   a hand waves slowly in
   recognition, in
   greeting.



Richard W Smith
March 2002

Diagonal Lines

Diagonal lines
   action lines, lines that cut across scenes of life
   and move and act and run.
The sun has risen this morning
   life begins with the
      diagonal slant of light.
Perspectives change as this
   diagonal line moves and moves its simple slant
   gradually into a perpendicular stance,
   solid and grounded
   and back again to its' horizontal slant.
Yet, the journey is
   not simply through the sky
   it is also through our lives.
The perspective is of
   colors and shades,
   shadows and light.
Changes happening moment to moment.
There's a gold hue to this slant where
   there is action and passion,
   movement and growth.
No longer under the cloak of darkness,
   going in unknown directions,
   no, now the light has come and
   brings beauty as well as energy
   to each new day.

The Lord rides those diagonal lines,
   rides them into life each morning and
   brings the beauty as well as energy
   to each new day.
The Lord comes and
   warms creation with light.
The Lord comes to paint
   each tree, each road, every person,
   to bounce reflections
   off midnight's puddles of rain
   and oceans flat from lack of Spirit.
The Lord comes and sprinkles gold dust
   into life and creates a fresh new Moasaic
   each moment of the new day.
And...and you and I are
   all part of this artist's pallette,
   and we are part of the colors flecked with gold
   that this artist's smears
   across the skies and earth...and you and I
   are part of the colors painted
   on life today with all
   our troubles, joys, schemes and dreams
   just waiting to be released
   on this day that is covered with
   diagonal lines!

Richard W Smith
2003

A Standing God

My God is a
   standing God.
The God who created
   street corners
   bus stops
   train stations
   lines and
   beds.

My God is in
   no hurry
   to take charge of
   life
   to get somewhere
   fast
   to be first
   be best
   be admired for
   superiority.

My God is standing
   waiting
   patiently
   smellng the scents of life
   listening to voices
   seeing pained hearts
   touching starved children.

My God is a standing God
   who waits
   who heals
   who stays
   with all
   who need
      healing
      hope
      compassion.







Richard W Smith
September 2003

The Tree Troupe

I regard trees as show offs---

   Look at them

   Sometimes they make soft rustling noises

   Just to grab our attention early in the morning

   Or in the deep dark nights or



Take the times they entertain us

   In bright red, orange, or yellow leaves

   Waving at us back and forth

   Trying to take our eyes off what we were doing or



How about when all their leaves fall off in

   Cold winter months, what happens?

   They are winter-snow covered and

   Provide shapes and forms as they

   Stand or slouch or lean against each other.

   There is a starkness to them, they even imitate

   Branch-Skeletons.



The forests and parks, huddles of trees

   Not standing idly by,

   But alive and busy at life

   performing

   In varieties of ways.



Yes, those elms, oaks, birches, and all the rest of the gang

   Show offs every one of them!













Richard W Smith

December 7, 2010

Prayer For Visibility

Lord
I want to flow down
   mountain side
   swim upstream.  I want to float
   upon the lake and hear
   echoes of life at work and
   birds calling and trees
   speaking as wind plays
   across their leaves.  I want to
   melt like snow within
   this earth and fly unhidered like a
   blackbird who moves with swagger
   calling life to consciousness each
   sunrise.  I want to be seen in the
   distant scene, across the lake
   in blues, reds, and yellows all neatly
   matched and able to be eye-catching
   to some unknown spy from the other side
   of the lake.  I want to float to earth like
   a fall leaf and rise like a summer rose.
  
I want, dear Lord, to be part of the
   rhythm, a piece of the canvass,
   a note in the song, a spark in
   the life that You
   Create!
   Amen.




Richard W Smith
March 2002

We Return With Homeless Hearts

We return with homeless hearts
 our weary journeys have left us
 with no place to rest, to belong
 with no reference point for living life
 with no shelter from life's suffering.

Waiting Father
 at the horizens of life
 you search the future
 for your returning child.

Waiting Father
 we return so late
 but life needs to be
 tested and seen for
 ourselves.

We return with broken hearts
 spirits barely alive.
 Coming in sad regret
 with hopes of a home
 a place of safety.

Christ of our hopes
 You are always there
 yet unseen by
 our selfish energy
 centered on being the
 "One" ourselves, being
 our own answer to our life.

Christ of our hopes
 we fail willfully
 to open our hearts
 to your gracious friendship
 your loving embrace.

We return with hearts imprisoned
 captive to sad decisions
 caged by unfree actions
 unable to break into
 acts of kindness and
 compassion.

Enabling Spirit of God
 you stand by with
 hand upon open door
 inviting and enabling our
 life to be whole and healed
 encouraging us to drink all of
 life from the cup you serve.

Enabling Spirit of God
 your energy and passion
 invade our lives and hearts
 causing us to be new
 someone different from the old mix
 of ingredients to our life.

But we return with homeless hearts
 our weary journeys have left us
 with no place to rest, to belong
 with no reference point for living
 with no shelter from life's pain.








Richard W Smith
March 2002

The Rumble Down the Family Tree

My Mother
   follows me
   down the stairs
   of my life
    my years.
Small woman
   of anger
     my terror!

Striking me
   with tongue
   and hand
Violence in words
   quips at table
   and rest.
We each
   my older sister and I
   huddled inside
   ourselves
   circling the wagons
   preparing for attacks
     for sharp arrows
     for deep wounds
        which we only discovered
        years after the assault.

Always hidden
   like so many families
We both pretended
   we were O.K.
But our children's lives
   betray our secret
   they bear the scars
   of our Mother's
      tongue and hand!
Our children pass on the
   echo of the violence
   down
   down the generations
   this specter of shadow
   this destructiveness
   so insidious
   so secret
   so painful.

My Mother has
   ceased her rule
   she's feeble
      memory fading
      her hand and tongue
         not so strong
But we still
   enthrown her out of habit
   giving her her due
      and as she fades
      from this world into memory
      behind her
      miles behind her
         we see many other
         women
             ancient
                with raised hand
                 with biting tongue
         we hear the thunder of violence
            rumbling down
               our family tree!







April 2004

The Heron

Slowly imperceptible
   those grey feet slide
   in the pond-hidden
   from the green late-summer-waters
   from the road,
   behind the forest leaf-camouflage
   to almost every eye.

This might seem like judgment
   as an ususpecting fish is speared
   it might feel like injustice
   bad luck
   at least to pond creatures
   as this intruder invades their world.

Yet the grey historic bird
   has been part of both worlds
   over and over again
   flying large
   striding softly
   imperceptible to the universe.






September 13, 2009