I see.

I haven’t written a poem since the year I fell in love with my wife. That was 17 years ago. But on a Friday evening in May, I watched as the night descended, and Siri and I wrote a poem together.

It’s about how rarely we slow down to notice what is right in front of us.

It’s about how we celebrate the light, but the rest of creation embraces the dark, as well.

It’s about how we search everywhere for God, but the truth is, we don’t need to be looking more widely, we just need to be looking more closely.

On this first full day of summer, it seemed like a good time to share it with you. May this be a season in which you watch the world around you more closely, the world within you more tenderly, and may you glimpse ever more clearly your deepest, truest, worthiest, most loveable self…

mindfulness

Photo Credit: graphicphotos (Bigstock)

Have you noticed how slowly the sun sets

when you are a still, steady witness?

Have you watched as the shadows succumb

to their inexorable lengthening?

Have you listened to birds sing as optimistically at the dawning of the night

as they do at the dawning of the light?

The sun rises every day, and we celebrate;

yet, how rarely do we marvel at the moonrise?

The air cools

amongst the deepening hues

and God watches

from behind a tree,

wondering who will notice.

He hides, it seems,

and we seek.

Except there is no hiding.

He’s everywhere.

I see him.

In the slow-slipping sun

and the long shadows

and the birdsong

and the moonrise.

And the dark.

I see him.

I see.

I.

You can leave a comment by clicking here.

Loveable is available in paperback, digital, and audio and can be purchased wherever books are sold, so you can also purchase it at your favorite bookseller.

Kelly is a licensed clinical psychologist and co-founder of Artisan Clinical Associates in Naperville, IL. He is also a writer and blogs regularly about the redemption of our personal, relational, and communal lives. Kelly is married, has three children, and enjoys learning from them how to be a kid again. You can find him on Facebook, Twitter, and Google+.

Please note: I reserve the right to delete comments that are offensive or off-topic.

  • Ellen Anderson

    Love, loved, lovely.

  • bonnie fuhrman

    Beautiful…listening, looking, breathing in Love…being still … Thankful…

    • I’m glad this could make Love even more tangible to you, Bonnie. Breathe, indeed.

  • Jade Brown

    Thank you for this, daring to do something you haven’t done in 17 years and sharing with so many is so courageous and really encourages me.

    • Jade, thank you for being sensitive to the courage it took, and I’m so glad to hear that it has emboldened you!

  • Kevin

    Being still. Thank you Kelly

  • Cris M

    Dear Kelly,
    (I am back to the comments 🙂 ) and to this very nice surprise of a very nice poem. I have just had a very profound experience of “Beauty”, also with things we may look at daily but not usually see. And for me, this you pointed out, about things that happen daily, like the moonrise o the sunset, how we move from the daylight to the night; and clearly the seasons, (and another example is what grows in the gardens), are just a reminder that there is a rhythm, that we must pay so much attention too that the universe puts reminders everywhere so we do not forget… Yet our modern life is so much more ruled to alarms, schedulers, and sleep cycle apps. I am feeling such an urgency to slow down and start to see! Loved your “reminder” with this poem! Enjoy your break too!

  • JC

    It’s your poem for you to explain as you like but since you’ve shared it I’ll take a stab at interpreting it for my own reflective interests.
    Complete sentences with prepositional compounds added as separate lines (almost separate thoughts) up front giving a somber demand that we pause; allowing for our thoughts to lengthen; to notice more detail; to stop abbreviating our mindfulness. Then, 4 lines for one sentence, still punctuated with prepositions and adjectives to make the reader look, with their minds eye, to see if they catch a glimpse of what the author has seen. The brevity of each line in this sentence calls out like a rushed whisper as if we were standing in the middle of the quite woods and the author sees something and doesn’t want to “scare” it off so the whisper is quick and short to gain the attention of the authors companion without disturbing the quiet air. It is as if you are taking just one reader with you into this wooded mind palace. Communicating solely to the one who is reading. – I think here too of how the worlds most favorite game of any child is “Hide-and-seek”. When we are most innocent and free from fear and worries of being alone, it is the most exciting thing to anticipate the one we love the most being right there, just beyond what we can see, knowing any moment we’ll find them, we’ll be so surprised, we already know and trust they aren’t really gone, yet it’s still exciting. – Then, you see, its so wonderful and exciting, so reassuring and so comforting. It calms the heart, you realize you are grown up again in a second but with new perspective, a paused realization that you are not alone, you then realize God isn’t just “everywhere” He’s right there, IN you, as close as universally possible and NEVER absent.

    The more I read it, the more I like it. Thank you for sharing.

    • Christy Lee

      Interesting analytical perspective. I like it.

    • I’m glad you did reflect on this, JC. Your thoughts are poetry too. The invitation to walk slowly into the forest of the poem, the invitation to childlike playfulness, the invitation to discover God without and within, I enjoy hearing about these through your words.

    • Shayne Wheeler

      I agree with Kelly, your words are much like a poem about the poem. (I have to admit, at first I thought this was a dig at grammar and such, but after the first half a sentence I realized it was something good!)
      I love the Hide and Seek reference. This game isn’t a store bought box game, or a game with tons of rules. The rules differ slightly each time, the children in charge, and the giggles. My children (ten and above) played this in my house just a couple days ago. I realized that we have the perfect hiding spots, in this perfect sized home. The joy it produced. “Free from fear and worries of being alone”, perfect. I like the anticipation of being the one about to be found by the one we love the most. I’m about to be rescued. I just know it.

  • Ismat Sheriff

    I think for me the last line may read ‘Him’ in my effort to clear my soul so that it can reflect him more clearly, in that sense there will be no ‘I’ anymore.

    • Ismat, that certainly resonates with me. Somehow, I always end up in paradox about this though. I. Him. And, I and Him. Someone once said to me, “The God in me sees the God in you.” It seemed true.

  • Katie Wilson Holcombe

    Aren’t you so clever!! This poem can be read forwards and backwards! I love it! Thank you for sharing with us!

    • I certainly didn’t intend that, Katie, but the nice thing about poetry is that there is meaning in the words the poet isn’t even aware of!

    • Shayne Wheeler

      wow. You are right.

  • Dori Anne Abbott

    NICE!!!

  • Sherree Burdi

    what a lovely, thought provoking poem. Maybe your next book will be poetry?

  • Brian Shimer

    Kelly — what a gift this was to read, to sit in, to sip. Thank you for taking the time to just reflect and be! Love to you! and Katie Wilson Holcombe — what a great observation that this can be read forwards and backwards. I could have sat with it a long time and not seen that. Thank you for that observation!

  • gloriareading

    Beautiful! 🙂

  • A. Julie

    I liked and like the flavor of this. It is a big slowing down, and along the way a dissolution of separateness of oneself. How comforting.

    From a comment below: “The God in me sees the God in you.” Reminds me of Nouwen. I’m also having a bit of an urge to read Heinlein’s “Stranger in a Strange Land.”