A Prayer for the Forest in the Hurricane
A Wounded Alleluia goes up from our lips and flows in our tears
During the fierce winds and torrential rains that Hurricane Helene brought, I got up and stared through the windows watching the trees twist and bend; bow and break. The air was full of their leaves blowing in every direction and without mercy. I picked up my journal and the words to a poem flowed up and out and without much effort or pain. I’m sharing that poem with you here.
I titled it, “The Forest Prayer in a Hurricane.” Since we are surrounded by the Piscah National Forest, we are really an island surrounded by the emerald green of all sorts of trees. So, so many are now down and everywhere you turn, chain saws are cutting through these barked friends.
In the image above, I found a Ginko leaf image to show you how tearfully shaped the leaves are. When Gwen’s mother died, someone gave her a Ginko tree to plant in our yard to always remind her of her love and grief for her beautiful and wonderful Mom!
The Sycamore Tree is the first to turn to red crimson in the early fall now.
The Beech Tree in our yard is massive providing beautiful shade and strength in her massive trunk. They are glorious creations for sure.
Trees—how do we take them for granted so in our lives? We forget and ignore their splendor. Trees are one of the most frequently used metaphors in Scriptures to help us find anchor, shelter and hope. My hope is that this poem might make us more aware—more tender towards them as they are to us. The illuminated woods are a glorious sanctuary to recover our lives. Now, these trees need to recover as well.
I’m making these poems available to everyone so feel free to pass them along as you desire.
Some News:
3 C Group News: Thank you for understanding Peter and my need to postpone our first session. Peter evacuated to Charlotte as his area was badly damaged. When I’m able to work it out with Peter for a new start date for the 3 C Group, we will email all of you who have registered. Registration is now closed. Peter’s family is OK as are Gwen and myself. Thank you for remembering us and everyone is struggling to recover. There is so, so much loss around us. The images you are seeing on the news are true and probably worse that you are seeing.
The Forest Prayer in a Hurricane by Stephen W. Smith Mother Beech, pray for us! As rivers rise up, so does our worry. What will become of us? As you shed your leaves, we shed our tears. Father Pine, give rootedness to us as you shake and twist. Our world is twisted now too. If you blow over, where will our shelter be found? Send our roots down to the rock to hold us all. Brother Ginko, your leaves are shaped like tears. Weep for us now there is so, so much loss. In your wide arms, hold us in our solidarity in grief. May all the feathered friends find a place to dry and recover. Saint Cedar, there is chaos at every turn. Your fragrance offers us peace. Please give us comfort. You are robed with the greenness of life that we desire. Spread open the heart of the Forest to show us the way out. Oh, beautiful Sycamore with leaves aflame in fire, Give us light to find our steps and warmth from the coming cold. Racoons in hiding. Golden hawks ascending. Bears already asleep. Your bleeding heart with red-like shed blood on the forest floor. We will pick up your fallen branches, And warm our hearts with your fallen wood. You give and give in ways we do not comprehend. Listen to the Trees just now. They are whispering a love song.
And here is a poem I wrote earlier this past summer. I read it again today and felt it was so appropriate for so many facing hard times. In trying times, sometimes, all we can do is offer a Wounded Alleluia, which is the name of this poem I want to share with you here.
Wounded Alleluia by Stephen W. Smith All I have is a wounded alleluia. My soul is cast down within me. Much, yes, much seems wrong. I have cannot find the way or see. Everywhere around me there is pain. I feel breathless to help or offer hope. Weariness, yes, profound tiredness is what I feel. I only have a wounded alleluia to cope. So, alleluia, alleluia—yes, alleluia. I will rise up and say what I know is true—alleluia. I am not free to sing your song. In this valley, I do not belong. When there is so much wrong, Yet, I can only sing an alleluia. My soul is dry and my heart feels closed. Only tears do I know this long dark day. Any more bad news and I will cave in. I see no light and hand to find your way. So,alleluia, alleluia—yes, alleluia. I will rise up and say what I know is true—alleluia. If there is praise to give, Then make my heart soar again. Till that time, I kneel and say, Alleluia. Once more in the dark before a needed dawn. So,alleluia, alleluia—yes, alleluia. I will rise up and say what I know is true—alleluia. Together is better than alone. So,with one voice, together we will sing Wounded and broken alleluias. So, Alleluia, Alleluia---yes, Alleluia.
Is there a line in either of these poems that seems to stand out as if a yellow highlighter has been wooing for your attention? I'd so love it if you'd type that line, word or phrase in the comment below.
I will rise up and say what I know is true—alleluia.
My heart remains heavy from all the loss experienced in the last 10 days. Such a strange and disparate thing to know in my head the terrible reality being experienced in the affected communities there, yet the continued normalcy of our days here in AL. I suppose that’s how it always is in the world- but it feels different and more noticeable this week. Your new poem is my new favorite. I hope one day you will publish them all as a collection- I’ll be the first to buy. We love you, my friend. Holding you in our hearts.