Little Summer Poem Touching the Subject of Faith
Every summer
I listen and look
under the sun’s brass and even
into the moonlight, but I can’t hear

anything, I can’t see anything —
not the pale roots digging down, nor the green stalks muscling up,
nor the leaves
deepening their damp pleats,

nor the tassels making,
nor the shucks, nor the cobs.
And still,
every day,

the leafy fields
grow taller and thicker —
green gowns lofting up in the night,
showered with silk.

And so, every summer,
I fail as a witness, seeing nothing —
I am deaf too
to the tick of the leaves,

the tapping of downwardness from the banyan feet —
all of it
happening
beyond any seeable proof, or hearable hum.

And, therefore, let the immeasurable come.
Let the unknowable touch the buckle of my spine.
Let the wind turn in the trees,
and the mystery hidden in the dirt

swing through the air.
How could I look at anything in this world
and tremble, and grip my hands over my heart?
What should I fear?

One morning
in the leafy green ocean
the honeycomb of the corn’s beautiful body
is sure to be there.

Mary Oliver

hold your heart

softly, loosely,

like a tender bud

like the apex of this breath

like a treasure

from the beach.

hold your heart

through the night

into the uncertain dawn.

hold your heart

even when broken

even when cold.

hold your heart.

Fourteen years ago, on our way back from Kathmandu via Bangkok, we bought this spirit house and had it shipped home.  It is decrepit now, it’s trusses fallen away, the stairs rickety, the railings hanging.  In Thailand and much of Southeast Asia, spirit houses are provided to house and appease unfriendly or troublesome spirits.  Ours has stood unloved and tucked into a corner for a couple years until two days ago I looked at it and thought that in the effort to sell our house, the spirit house could be helpful.

So I moved it near a garden, in a place of prominence and honor.  I figure it couldn’t hurt.  Over the next few days, I will add some offerings – flowers or shells or stones.  Something lovely for those troublesome spirits.  I also plan to ask them to help us with our real estate efforts.

Six years ago, when we were moving from Martha’s Vineyard, looking at over 90 properties in Virginia, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, Connecticut and New York, we despaired of ever finding anything that we loved.  We thought we were going to build a barn and have the horses at home.  That was our focus.  Only when I realized that the horses were not the first thing, but that great schools for the girls were what we were supposed to focus on, did we find our house, and within the same week, sell our Vineyard house.

I feel like I am groping my way toward a similar epiphany this time.  What is our main focus now?  What are we supposed to be putting as the main priority at this time?  What am I putting at the center?  My sense is that until the answer comes clear (and I will know it when it does), we will be waiting.