Upon reading Calming the Wilderness, riffing.

It feels strange to,
at last, again,
peel back the flap of another
large, manilla envelope.

Departure

Decades past,
the first one from her
contained guidance,
wisdom,
and introduction
to an unfamiliar,
yet exciting and welcome,
urban life.

I was brought in,
feted,
playing with the Big D
boys and girls now,
uncertain,
wrapped in a glass and steel
citadel
along a Northwest Expressway,
(long before I settled in a
specific Northwest expressway.)

She, always smiling,
eyes shining,
always kind,
giving wisdom,
guiding me through
the intracacies of even higher
las places I yearned to be.

Voyage

Then, I left.
What a long, strange trip!
Touching base with her
actually rarely,
yet constantly mentally,
as though she were
some reality Ebenezer,
not the man,
but the touch stone.

Return

Now we reconnect,
after our journeys took us
far and away,
and we each escaped
that cold urbanity
(once more, she teaches!),
to find our home,
our rest,
our real core sacred selves.

From the second envelope
slides black and white wisdom
about She who I love
so dearly,
and who she now,
clearly,
loves
and understands
at least as equally
as I.

Thumbing the pages,
gazing at letters, symbols:
A strange feeling
of recognition,
joy,
and gratitude.

The voice is so familiar,
with sense of connection.
My heart!
My soul!
My spirit!
swells,
and tears well
up and out
as I read of
Nature observations
and insights,
and wisdom,
and feelings,
hersyetmine.

Thousands of miles
and dozens of years
apart,
we’re even using
the same words,
receiving the same
inspiration,
talking to messengers
sent from the sky,
forests,
plains,
mountains:
Birds,
plants,
animals,
stars,
water,
wind,
Earth,
Heaven.

I’m curious if she,
as once,
is now again as connected
to Saint Francis
as I am.
All creatures….

I shake my head
in wonder
and amazement.
Such similarites!
I yearn to see
her portal,
Sangre de Cristo
and Land of Enchantment,
and hope to let her
experience ours,
Spirit Tree
and vortex folds
along the Chickamauga.

Thought:
Perhaps,
through words,
we are connecting
and connected.

The Source is the same,
whether in desert,
on mountain or plain,
through creeks and fields,
grasslands, forests,
or places I can’t yet pronounce.

I’m grateful
and moved beyond words
(and yet, here they are!)
for the truths
and her gift(s)
that this manilla envelope
revealed.

==========
For your own copy of the book of Nature observation poetry that prompted this piece, click: Annemarie Marek’s Calming the Wilderness.