The Night and I

My mother, Marie Schmitt Ely wrote this poem in December 1938, six months after she was married and had moved to Santa Fe, New Mexico. Over the past few years, I’ve wondered about this - it did not sound like a poem written by a young bride.

The Night and I

In a scrawny, muddy Spanish town,
My soul and I have settled down;
I promised you I’d let you know
An incredible number of ages ago.

I’ve lost my lovely shining dreams,
My adopted kinship with moonbeams;
The stars are cold and distant now;
If we should meet, they’d only bow.

They used to stop and talk with me,
And one or two, occasionally,
Has brushed my soul with swift, sure light
In its flaming journey through the night.

The moon used to pause and call to me
Across the shining desert sea,
But now it hardly ever stops
As it rises over the mountain tops.

I know I seem to have settled down
In this scrawny, muddy Spanish town,
But my soul knows well the shining way
To the glory of night and the beauty of day.

With one exception she rarely wrote in specifically religious imagery.

Yet, on reading William A. Barry, S.J.’s Finding God in All Things; A companion to the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius , I found a clue. Barry quotes a prayer by Joseph Tetlow:

“I would like it to be my desire, and my choice,
provided that You want it, too
to live my life as you lived Yours.
I know that You lived as an insignificant person,
In a little, despised town;’(p.73)

(This prayer is based on Spiritual Exercise 98)

The phrase “little town” and the context of the prayer brought this reflection.

When one goes through the spiritual exercises, even informally, one can be deeply moved - as if one's soul were "brushed...with swift, sure light." In short, we dream. The Exercises remind us that our dreams may not be in God's plan for us. We are urged to accept the fact that God's plan may be different and to search for it.

From the text of this poem and others she wrote during her youth it is clear that my mother had some deep spiritual experiences.Her poems reflect upon romance, dreams and loss. She came from a family that emphasized academic achievement and had seen some of her poetry published.

I can only imagine that this poem, written in December when Santa Fe could have looked "scrawny and muddy", expressed an Ignatian like recognition that she had dreamed great dreams and now was being asked to focus on her life in Santa Fe.

Her dreams of greatness might have been fulfilled. She was to go on, publishing Sacred Paintings and giving birth to two children. I have briefly told her story and posted some pictures here.

My mother died from leukemia on May 13, 1946. Her poetry helps me to know her in a personal way. I am grateful to her and to my stepmother, Evelyn Bauer Ely for “stepping up to the plate” and doing all those things that mothers do. She carefully preserved and cataloged my mothers poetry.

I’m sure they are both glad that I’m learning from it.