May 16, 2010

Everything is wet out here
and there are mosquitoes,

and it is always dangerous to go looking
for God in nature.
Or anywhere else.

But especially in nature.

I go seeking God
among the trees
and the teeming green,

and find mosquitoes in clouds so dense
I can aimlessly swing my hand through the air
and feel their bodies
– thick with blood,
most recently my blood –
against the palm of my hand.



Wild hydrangea flower heads are hesitating,
their white buds swollen.

Nothing else is blooming.
Everything is growing.

It seems like the only important thing
is to reach toward light.



Wet trees,
muddy ground.

Thick growth along the edges of the trail.

Lanky Virginia knotweed.

Slender-stemmed seed pods of wild violets.

Swelling may-apple fruits.

The spearhead-shaped leaves of Lady’s Thumbprint.

Healthy poison ivy.



So much poison ivy.

Along every step of the trail I am spotting
poison ivy
until I think there isn’t enough space for God
or anything else
but poison ivy
to grow out here.

Until I decide,
walking down a narrow trail,
to find smilax,
and glancing to the left,
immediately find a smilax vine,

half-hidden in a thicket of poison ivy

and it makes me think how what we are looking for
determines what we see,
and that’s not a new insight,
but I’ll take it.



It may not be the glimpse of God
I was hoping for
but I’ll take it over the mosquitoes.

And here I am supposed to say that in a flash
I’ve come to see God even in the mosquitoes,

But I haven’t.



Words by Stephen Black
Photos by Jenn Allmon

To see more photographs from May 16th, please click here.