Old Soul | A Poem from Water, Rocks and Trees
We are pleased to announce Water, Rocks, and Trees is now available in paperback worldwide. This is the debut collection of poet James Scott Smith. The book was given an Honorary Mention in the 2015 Homebound Publications Poetry Prize.
The praise has been pouring in for Smith’s thoughtful work. Catherine Abbey Hodges, author of Instead of Sadness declares “…the work of a gracious and trusty guide, observant, nimble, never didactic, ever an acolyte of the infinite.” Catherine Strisik, author of The Mistress and Thousand Cricket Song reflects, “In his first collection of poems, Water, Rocks and Trees, James Scott Smith kneels and prays alongside creation, and becomes the utterance of the naked soul.” Mary Reynolds Thompson, author of Embrace Your Inner Wild and Reclaiming the Wild Soul writes “…Smith revels in the intelligence and vibrancy of the more than human world. Here, man doesn’t conquer nature—he converses with it. It is a conversation I didn’t want to end.” and it goes on! (Read more reviews)
To the one who remembers Pangaea,
to the soul dredged deep of a
land before God broke bread of it with
mighty words of root and cause to christen
the continents cast across the waters; be strong.
Though no one taught you of your unique
endowment, instinct and archetype are
a lamp unto your feet. The world within is as
large as the one outside, of an elemental image
arching from in the beginning to
amen. You have come into your
faith now, you are of the deeper walk, so;
Hold dear the silence within the
bounds of earth, sky, and time.
Heed not the clamor and extend
polite refusal to the alchemies of
fools and their followers. Do not
go their way. Instead, find in
each day some simple moment of
reckoning and all will be well. Tend
to the part of creation you are
given to for that is the body and the
blood of it. And know this: you would
not have that disquieting
shadow of yours were it not for
the common grace of light.
Between is your rightful place
to bend and fray the
luminous substance of love. Yours
is a refuge for the
neophyte hungry for the
remembrance you are holding.