A Common Prayer | Darden Smith

A Common Prayer

In these chaotic days I turn again and again
To the simple forms and shapes I became attuned to
As a young boy walking through our fields
And in my mother's elaborate gardens.
It is the architecture of dry grass, blooming roses,
Dissonant end of season wildflower light
Tossed across acres of fading thistle,
Horsemint, winecup and Mexican hat.
 
I didn’t know it then, but I recognize now
This first spark of reverence
That calls to me even today.
What I see and give my attention to
On the side of highways and busy intersections,
A patch of limestone hillside in the morning,
What rises through cracks in the pavement,
A vase of barely contained chaos in a London window –
Everyday, ordinary objects,
The artifacts of an unadorned longing for place.

These drawings are the result of marks
I have carried across a lifetime.
It is the same grass, the same flowers,
The familiar riot of line and color I saw as a child,
But it’s still here with me now.
They are where I come from,
The foundation of my seeing,

And an invitation to always move
Towards the hidden song,
A common prayer
Just beneath our knowing.

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8.24.25