Saturday, the third day
of a silent retreat.
The torrential rains
had finally ceased.
Today, I was set to find
a flower – a gem.
It would likely be the sign
that I was close to Him.
Thursday evening,
in the brevity
of our timid speech,
a woman about trillium
to me did preach.
“It’s blooming now, you know,
If you look closely,
along the path,
it grows.”
She spoke with such enthusiasm,
simplicity, and grace;
the hunger I felt for its beauty
I sought with unexplained haste.
The narrow, trodden path
meandered through the lush.
The woodland climbed and danced
among that winded- hush.
Confident this worthy hunt
would lead me through rich earth,
I sift through forest floor
for a flower it might birth.
Why would someone give chase
to what right in front of
them was perching?
No, surely a coveted gem as this
would take some amount of searching!
The quest continued stretching
my sight into the thicket.
It emerges in the distance,
but I could never reach it!
A few steps,
my feet disappear,
I’m quite shaken.
A few steps more,
the flower now clear
behold, flora mistaken.
My weary feet advance;
there it blooms,
not in vain;
but the purity of white
once more the flower feigned.
Repetitive searching continues,
eyes wildly grazing the distance.
Only to expose falsity
in my fruitless persistence.
Frustration takes hold
of my defeated pursuit.
Thoughts once beauty and grace,
now disbelief pollutes.
Mechanically, I continue;
my earthly connection now severed.
Place no longer matters,
footsteps a mere unit of measure.
Blindness overcomes sight
as awareness is ceasing.
Yet, the guilt of desertion
longs for discoveries easing.
Irritation gluttonously
finds sustenance
on my impatient footholds
endless consumption.
I stop!
My chase has no record
of neither distance nor time;
I turn, contemplating a return
to that of familiar pastime.
Twisting back around,
I face unfamiliar land.
Dear Lord, I put my feet
into Your cradled hands.
A downward glance,
as if they would move
at His will,
revealed in my next step
something sewn with such skill.
There rooted at this step
I would take with my right foot,
a flower that into the woods
was just for me, put.
I knelt next to it with
a delicate touch I kept,
and admiring this sought treasure,
I joyfully wept.
So, what I really found
in my search for the trillium flower?
It’s not gazing into distance
that His gifts upon you will shower.
But, it’s sewn to our feet,
like the shadow of Pan;
it’s been connected to us always,
His love’s eternal span.