This year, poetry has pulled me in more than ever before. It’s a complicated form of literature with rules and also no rules. A tightly impacted, profound observation, in fewer words than novels. My attention span, so fragmented with unrestful thoughts, isn’t the best for reading novels right now, but I must read, so poetry it is.
Emily Dickinson caught my interest quickly, as a sudden hermit myself. I’ve been home far more than usual this year, and I’m home a lot anyway. We’ve all likely spent more time in our own areas with social distancing and Covid concerns. Many things were closed, or still are, so home is the most occupied environment.
Dickinson isolated herself intentionally for many years, almost never leaving her father’s home place or land. She wrote about the things she saw directly and the thoughts those small things inspired.
I’ve considered that as my field of experience and view has dwindled - what do I write about except what I know and experience? It has been a frustrating and hard year. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t feel that strain of collective grief, anger, and fear of the unknown. It’s a global helplessness and Americans especially don’t react well to that feeling.
Yet, thats when we can see what God can do best.
It’s pouring rain outside right now. I was super irritated because I had outside plans. But I am reminded that God comes to us like the rain. He is often in the clouds or the wind. The imagery and poetic descriptions in the Bible remind me that God is near us always in things we can see if we look.
Recently, there was the annual Perseid meteor shower. Every August 10-13, Earth moves through the remnants of an eons old comet. I watched it once as a kid, but I typically forget as an adult. I happened to be awake one night, so I took my beloved dog, a can of bug spray, a glass of sweet tea, and a chair outside at 2am. My dog wandered around a bit, but then came to sit by me, a touch confused, as if to say “are you ok?” I pet her head and stared at the sky, letting my eyes adjust to the glittered view strewn over the void. “Yes, girl. Let’s just watch and see.”
As I watched, I saw my first meteor of the night. A little streak, so far away. They glow as it enters our atmosphere and burns with the oxygen. It is incredible to think it’s so far, yet still within our airspace. The magnitude of God’s creation suddenly tightened my chest in emotion. I felt so small and so helpless. I quietly sang the Hillsong lyrics “if the stars were made to worship, so will I.” I counted 12 meteors that night and I cried at the beauty above me. My dog even saw a few and she darted her head as if to chase it. “We can’t chase it girl,” I laughed. We have to let things come... let God come to us. Let peace emerge. Let hope be a thing with feathers. It doesn’t happen unless we can watch for it. Be poetic observers of our own lives. Look around expectantly!
“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -
-Emily Dickinson
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