by Connie James
The plant roots itself in the dirt
I try to be its mother,
knowing the earth really is its mother
I steward it, love it, and watch
Each day the universe opens gifts
to help the plant grow,
and I mindfully attend and aid
this glorious mystery with excitement
This watching and gardening
becomes spiritual to me,
yet I do question this attending
Is it my own projection on to this experience?
Is it really allowing me
to understand the relationship
of me and the universe?
Am I here to hold on to the love
of something growing,
with a patience and acceptance
of all that will occur?
Conception, living, dying, rebirth
So I stay and still watch,
and then I realize
I’m becoming appreciative,
that I’m part of all this life
now and forever
Remembering that whatever I love,
it surely is spiritual
It is my prayer
* * * * *
Connie James was raised in the mid-west as well as in Southern California, where she met her husband Bob. They moved to Eugene Oregon in 1955, when Bob got a professorship in the art department at the University of Oregon. Connie raised five children, has helped raise grandchildren, been a docent at local museums, and has been active in her local synagogue. A lover and supporter of art, music, and literature for decades, Connie kept her own work relatively hidden until 2016. At the age of 88 she was published for the first time in May 2016, in the literary magazine “The Elephant”, with her poem “Shekhinah Speaks”. Connie continues to explore her poetic talents, proving to us all that one is never too old to be a poet.
Connie James, being computer illiterate, had this poem submitted for her by her deceased daughter's best friend Amy Ballard Rich.