Saturday, March 12, 2016

Transforming Fog Ruth Smith Meyer

This morning the world was shrouded in a dense fog. The snow and frigid temperatures that heralded the coming of March gave the impression of pulling the blanket up around its ears trying to ignore the warmer climate that was about to bring the demise of winter.

An hour or so later, when I drove out of the garage, the atmosphere was transformed once more.  The sun shone in a blue, blue sky. Against that azure back-drop, each branch, to the smallest twig was clothed in crystal white creating a fairyland of ethereal beauty. I wished I had started a half hour early and brought my camera to capture the magnificent splendor, for by the time church had hardly more than started the breath-taking splendor was gone.

Right now, at this period in my life, when I am finding my way to a new kind of life, because of the new reality of a second time of widowhood, I often feel as literally in the fog as the world was this morning. I remembered a poem I wrote when my first husband died.   

Return, Oh Spring!                                                                         
Song of my heart after Norman’s death.
The morning dawns,
my consciousness aroused, 
realizes its arrival
is cloudy, damp and cold.
 My eyelids open slowly;
I pull the covers ‘round. 
It seems the clime
has my heart
firmly in its hold. 

Bleak February days
find echo in my heart.
-Where are the sunshine,
warmth and loving grace,
the shape and meaning,
hopes and dreams,
the touch,
the feel,
and sight
of my dear one’s face? 

Oh come,
warmth and touch
of Eternal Spring,
melt grief’s ice and snow,  
disperse winter’s chill,
and in the warming trickle
of the certain thaw,
soak the earth of promise
that lies beneath it still;
awaken slumbering seeds
and initiate new growth
of love and life,
in altered and innovative cast. 

Emerging from the earth,
facing toward the sun,
may hopes
and dreams
return to me at last.
Ruth Smith

Six years later I added a few verses when Paul came into my life.

‘Twas my  earnest prayer
that February morn
when Spring seemed
loathe to come.
But slowly my heart
to resignation did succumb
to reality—life so different,
life alone,
to face the great unknown.
But life so new
and foreign now
still seemed the weight of stone.

Then blew Eternal Spring

And moved your heart to call
To melt my sadness,
Dispel my grief’s dark pall.
And in the warming stream
of your amazing love,
you soaked the arid places
that I’d been conscious of;
awakened slumbering seeds
and initiated new growth
of love and life,
in altered and innovative cast. 
And I emerged from earth,
My face glowed in the sun,
New hopes arose,
Dreams came true,
My heart felt at home again--
at home in your love,
at home at last.
                        Ruth Smith Meyer

Now I face another time of grief.  Although there are moments when I’d like to draw those blankets up around my ears, this morning’s magic, makes me realize that even dense fogs can be the instrument to bring about enchanting beauty. And as a writer, I want to have paper and pen or computer ready to record the unexpected brief revelations of fulfillment and loveliness that surprise me as I walk this way, for I do not walk alone.

 Ruth Smith Meyer is the author of two adult novels, a children's book and her latest, memoirs Out of the Ordinary,  You can contact her through her website,  She also enjoys opportunities to share inspiration through speaking engagements and women's retreats.


Peter Black said...

Gorgeous pictures, Ruth! Thank you for opening up the treasures of your heart in your poetry - beauty arising from your experience of pain and loss.
That reminded me of Isaiah 61:1-3, about the Anointed One's ministry of comforting those who mourn in Zion, His bestowing a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.
May the comforting continue day by day. ~~+~~

David Kitz said...

I really appreciate this thought:
Emerging from the earth,
facing toward the sun,
may hopes
and dreams
return to me at last.

Glynis said...

Such a beautiful poem, Ruth, that speaks of your heart so eloquently and truthfully. Your strength (because of Him) inspires me. Lovely. I think our resident poet, Janet, would appreciate and love your poem, too. May I show it to her?

Ruth Smith Meyer said...

Thank you all! You are encouraging to me. Yes, of course, Glynis, share it with whoever you think would appreciate it or be helped by it.

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