Standing

Happy are those 

who walk hand in hand

with goodness, 

who stand beside virture,

who sit in the seat of truth; 

For their delight is in the Spirit of Love, 

and in Love's heart they dwell 

day and night. 

They are like trees planted  

by streams of water, 

that yield fruit in due season, 

and their leaves flourish; 

And in all that they do, they give life.   

 

Psalm 1 

Psalms for Praying 

Nan C. Merrill   

   

Usually when I read this psalm, I envision an idyllic grove of trees on a gentle summer day.  Yet, this tree, which is indeed planted by a stream of water, at least when the rains come and the creek is running, is far from what one might consider perfection to be. She bears the marks of woodpeckers who have paid numerous visits. She stands in Sunol, between the creek that has been reinforced with stones and a paved road. She bears the cuts of having been unceremoniously pruned, probably in the name of safety.  She is, however, a tree that I love. When I gaze at this tree I feel the presence of the Holy Mother.  I sense not power, but a vulnerability that has resulted in a beauty that comes from enduring heat and drought, the not frequent enough gentle spring rains, and turbulent waters. Time has emptied her, yet she continues to provide shelter and even sprouts new growth. 

As I look up, I trust my own life a little more.  

 

I have seen the sun break through 

to illuminate a small field 

for a while, and gone my way

and forgotten it. But that was the pearl 

of great price, the one field that had 

the treasure in it. I realize now

that I must give all that I have 

to possess it. Life is not hurrying 

on to a receding future, 

nor hankering after 

an imagined past. It is the turning

aside like Moses to the miracle 

of the lit bush, to a brightness 

that seemed transitory as your youth

once, but is the eternity that awaits you.    

 

Bright Field 

R.S. Thomas  

 

The poet's break after the word hurrying is worth pondering.