This morning I released, without a doubt,
the same bright trout I gathered in my net
last autumn. He has the same red cheeks
and belly, only redder as he seeks a partner
for the springtime spawn. His spots are still
in the same places, growing denser
with the same pace as they spread along
his lateral line from dorsal to adipose to tail.
But the telltale sign is the wound he bears
upon his shoulders, left behind by an eagle
whose talons fumbled dinner. I almost
didn’t notice, so engrossed was I
with his vibrant colors. I startled to behold
the furrows he can’t see and won’t
forget, even as his flesh fends off
infection and hurriedly repairs.
Perhaps that’s why both times he was
not enticed by a dry fly floating along
the surface, where his cousins fed
heedlessly, but tricked by the same
heavy nymph sinking deep into the same
azure trough along the same red rock.
Whatever else remains, we know
we’re on the mend when we are hungry again.
You can hear a conversation about this poem on the Reformed Journal Podcast.
Photo by Sara Kurfeß on Unsplash
4 Responses
Thanks. I like this. When I underwent a stem cell transplant for multiple myeloma six years ago, I had zero appetite and nearly an intolerance for something to drink. My wife went to the convenience store and bought Mt. Dew (my favorite), root beer, orange juice, apple juice, grape juice, water, milk, chocolate milk, tea, gatorade, and more. I couldn’t stand any of it. After 45 days I knew I was on the mend when my appetite came back. I figure it must be like that for our souls too – we’re on the mend when our appetite for God kicks in and we hunger and thirst for the living God.
Sometimes I think that a hunger for hunger counts as hunger, too. A good sign when we notice our lack of desire and long for its return. Love your reflections, David.
Oh, I liked this poem very much.
Yep. As you get older, your doctor will routinely ask if you’re losing interest (hunger) for things that used to appeal to you. Your premise of being on the mend when hungry again is spot on. As we get older (and experience declining energy and stamina), we need to intentionally cultivate ‘hunger’ for worthwhile things – the wise counsel of Scripture, time investments that are most meaningful, those ‘whatsoever’ things that are true, beautiful, pure, and relationships that are most valuable in terms of eternity. Hunger is important to restoration. However, over time and by experience, the objects of our hunger can shift in shape and substance as our perception of ‘time left’ changes.