The Holy Uninvited

After Psalm 138

henbit dead nettle

The weeds that withered and the ones I pulled

are risen in a flurry of flowers —

floods of maroon-tipped white ramping-fumitory

and meadows full of sunbright yellow oxalis.

Amidst last winter’s lettuce, henbit deadnettle flaunts

small purple velvet blooms

unfurling

yet smaller

speckled petals.

The beauty of what I call weeds

startles me into gratitude,

and I sing praise to the earth.

I name you, holy uninvited —

nettle and broom,

thistle and vinca –

and bow before your tenacious ingenuity,

for you glorify the Author of Life

in your surging greenness.

When I looked out my window, 

you showed me your loveliness;

your bounty reminded me of our plenty.

All the fearful would surely recognize abundance

if they could see the unstoppable

flowering in this garden,

if they only breathed in the aromas of 

sweet peas and angel’s trumpet.

Though the Beloved dwells in paradise,

She cares for the nettle and broom

as much as the jasmine and rose;

both planted and uninvited

are holy in Her sight.

Though I fear scarcity,

you fill this plot with hurtling life.

You offer enough to feed us all,

more than enough to save us. 

The earth will make good her purpose for me;

O Sacred Earth, your greening endures forever;

do not abandon the fruits of your flowering.


Audio version of The Holy Uninvited

a bouquet of weeds/wildflowers next to the book Psalms for Praying

A note about this poem: In January I started reading the book Understorey: A Year Among Weeds by Anna Chapman Parker, and it inspired me to pay attention to the weeds in my garden. Although oxalis dominates with its neon yellow flowers, when I set out to explore the verdant greenery currently burgeoning in my backyard, I identified twenty other species— many of which I would have considered wildflowers if I’d discovered them on a hike. And now that I know another name for oxalis is Bermuda buttercup, how could I not want to make peace with it?

Then last week, for an online retreat through Abbey of the Arts called Earth Psalter: Writing Psalms for the Anthropocene, I was asked to “bring an object from an outdoor place that is meaningful to your experience of your ecosystem.” Minutes before I was supposed to show up on Zoom, I raced out to the still dewy backyard with my clippers and put together a small bouquet of weeds/wildflowers that inspired this song of praise and gratitude.

Thank you to Abbey of the Arts for this new approach to the psalms!

Resistance

Oxalis in the author's garden

I slip my spade through the weedy tangle

and slice into the earth,

dig as deep as the blade will go

to come up under the root mass,

and tug an entire oxalis from soil

where lilies and echevaria want to grow.

Sometimes the garden yields its invader,

bulbs clinging to white tendrils

as I pull them gently from the dirt,

then toss them

without ceremony or remorse 

into my bucket.

But mostly the roots go deep,

and bulbs remain

nestled in their secret places,

sucking sunlight and water

meant for the bird of paradise.

In this little square of earth

under my neighbor’s redwood,

I want to be the American army liberating Paris,

but I am only one humble partisan,

and this looks to be a long battle.