Tending to the World
By now it’s become habit
Tending to the World
By now it’s become habit.
I barely notice myself bending
and reaching for the fallen branch,
kicking stones off the pathway,
picking up stray wrappers,
the thrown bottle. I don’t intend
to be kind. I don’t stop and think
of myself as acting in kindness,
or consider it as right. It is just that
I’ve become accustomed to clearing
obstacles, trained the impulse in me
that loves beauty. Grown— beyond
virtue and doubt and morality—
a reflexive nerve, a quiet vigor,
an observant pulse insisting on
tending to the world.
- Moudi Sbeity
Sometimes it takes another to see something in you. And sometimes, this is done inadvertently by witnessing another. This is how this poem came about. Beloved poet Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer published a poem three days ago, Different Paths, speaking to how her husband slows “down to kick off the / smaller rocks, / stopping to pick up / and toss the larger ones.” I recognized that I do that too, though I hadn’t considered it as anything worthy of my attention. This is the magic of poetry, it can witness us, and so we can then witness ourselves.
Free writing workshop - Thursday June 25 at 4:00pm ET. Hosted by ZenJen Brown, I will be facilitating - Register here.
I do this, too! I tuck small bits of trash in my pockets as I walk, too, thinking I should remember to bring a bag... You say it so beautifully:
"I’ve become accustomed to clearing
obstacles, trained the impulse in me
that loves beauty."
Yes! Long may we do this!
Beautiful. I do this too, Moudi--although I've never thought much about it. I clean up after other peoples' dogs, too.... I never have thought of it as "tending the world." Now I will. Thank you!