
I brought a poem to compline. Everything is de-institutionalising, and all the conventional waymarks are changing. Priests easily lose the script and feel lost. They can react to feeling lost by desperately clinging onto reactionary fantasy, buying a ‘how-to’ book, losing any sense of their own worth as priests or people.

This poem is by Seattle poet David Waggoner. What do you do if you’re lost in the great redwood forest? If you don't know where to turn because it all looks the same?



Lost
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.
2 comments:
FABULOUS poem. Thank you.
Glad to hear all goes well and great to see many of the old SAOMC gang there!
p.s. Is it just me or have ordinands got so much taller and bishops and monks so much shorter? ;oP
I see what you mean, Sarah. Stuart and I do look rather like evil little geshrunken Da Vinci characters. I think it was all about fitting ourselves int the picture, or servant ministry, or something
Post a Comment