“Poetry is the most original form of language and it is the natural foundation of the spiritual life.” Robert E. Doud in Poetry, Poetics and the Spiritual Life, printed in The Way magazine, October 2010.
Rilke, paraphrased, “The poet’s vocation is to draw into himself or herself a variety of experiences and to transform them into beauty.”
Fireflies and Starfire
A Boyhood Memory
I remember after playing softball, lying on my back in Spencer’s field, with Bobby Day and Johnny Crunick. In the darkness, flat on our backs, we looked up at the stars and wondered out loud what was beyond the stars and how they all got there.
Bobby asked, “Who made the darkness?”
We sighed and silently lay there.
Wondering, I looked up at those twinkling stars and then I looked down to the weeds to where the fireflies were blinking. I heard the crickets chirping, then our breathing.
I looked up again to the stars and felt relieved when a shooting star flashed a sparkling train across the sky, like the sky was alive, friendly.
We ooooohed and aaaawed.
Counting blinking fireflies, at number nine, I promised myself to never again crush one around my ring finger, or put fireflies in a jar.