Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies?
Yet not a single one of them is forgotten in God’s sight. Luke 12: 6
Have you opened your eyes to catch that Holy Likeness looking back?
Above the grocery lot my eyes were lifted,
beyond the monotony of morning, to steely skies
by an arrowhead of cranes, splicing frigid air with their antiphonal cries.
For some minutes I watched this wonderous wave
ripple high overhead with undulating grace
and shower us abundantly with warbled crooning.
The skies declare the grandeur of the One
whose handiwork is heralded across the heavens.
Inspired by this early benediction,
I scoured ranks of cars for muffled pedestrians
who had likewise been touched by this seasonal visitation.
None it seemed had noticed
or cared enough to raise their gaze
from the transactions of the marketplace.
At once an acute hollowness sunk in
as a cascade of separateness
splintered and severed the filigree holding all together.
The day re-turned to tasking and foraging,
and those winged pilgrims, trilling angels from on high,
were replaced by the pinging of electronic scanners.
The earth is a living thing. Mountains speak, trees sing, lakes can think, pebbles have soul, rocks have power. Henry Crow Dog
In years past, an art teacher
challenged our class, seated around an aged oak,
to draw all we could see; everything but that ancient tree.
So, we sketched the worlds in-between
limbs, twigs and branches,
and along the ragged edges of trunk and leaves.
By lesson’s end
we beheld variations of an invisible web;
a network holding the whole world together.
“Do you see?” she taught.
“No thing can exist in isolation. Anything and everything
can only be understood and truly represented in connection.”
Where could I escape your spirit or flee your presence?
Should I rise up to the heavens, there you are;
or make my bed in the darkest depths, still you are there.
If I catch the wings of morning to the farthest limits of sea,
even there would your hand guide me, tightly upheld.
In the shimmering mirror of morning any curious soul
with insight might perceive myriad reflections
of the Hub that pulls us into oneness.
From our perch along the Milky Way
we can gaze into jeweled infinity
and, in this dark hall of mirrors, bask in original likeness.
Delighting in the blue-green world of Nature’s abundance,
we can choose to celebrate as we commune miraculously
with the ‘likes of us’: our swimming, flying, galloping, crawling cousins.
It is blasphemy to separate oneself from the earth and look down upon it like a god. It is more than blasphemy it is dangerous. We can never be gods, after all— but we can become something less than human with frightening ease. Nora K. Jemisin
Should we risk a look into the light-reflected
in the eyes of neighbors, foe and friend, and allow boundaries to blur,
we might just glimpse our likeness staring back.
May you revel in primal connectivity
and wink at the look-a-likeness gaping back
in the river of relations.
Now available: A New Book by Joe Grant