Dear College Faculty and Staff,
Thanks to all who attended CAS Convocation on Tuesday. It was lovely to see you and to welcome our new faculty and staff to Santa Clara.
Congratulations again to our College Award winners! The CAS faculty and staff are truly top-notch and it’s my great pleasure to work with you all. Coming together to recognize the accomplishments of our colleagues is a wonderful way to kick off the new academic year. It reminds us that we are part of a strong and supportive community capable of achieving great things here at Santa Clara—and beyond!
Welcome Weekend starts today and the excitement is growing—thank you to all of you who work so hard to welcome our first-year, transfer, and returning students!
We were so fortunate to have Assistant Professor of English Daniel Summerhill compose a poem for this year's Convocation and to read it. Many of you expressed your appreciation of his work and wanted to see it, so here it is below.
Onward into the new year!
Daniel
Once in Mississippi, I Stumbled Upon a Field
-Daniel B. Summerhill
I would like to say something about the daffodil,
about prayer, about the maroon of our humanity.
Around us now, the cauterized purple night, begetting
a halo of yellow tomorrow. I would like to say
something about prayer. How we pray with our feet,
not our tongues, how we might be made holy,
not through our hearts, but with our hands. How
a prayer is deciding to do something repeatedly
the same way a daffodil is perennial years after
a homestead has crumbled into clay and dust.
Once in Mississippi, I stumbled upon a field
of amber, small rebels with enough gall to show up
again and again. The best of themselves left behind
for another shot at bloom. How hope is invented daily.
How we wake the same as daffodils holding our heads
towards a blue-ladened sky in search of something
more honest, more true. How this too is a type of prayer.
A type of rhythm. We cast aside our own petals,
believing in the budding of tomorrow.
The friction between being here or not. The way
we spread like good news on a Sunday. Answers
to our petition found in the perish of late summer.
All we have to do is remember the sound
katydids make in the night. Sighing a raspy blues.
I cannot tell you the sound of a single cicada, but the sound
of a chorus is nostalgic. Grey hum of 10,000
small things. The salvation unity brings. Remember
the way flowers raise their heads in defiance or—
righteousness. How this too is a type
of camaraderie. A type of prayer. If we pay
close enough attention to the ground, our heaven
will emerge from nothing, like a daffodil. If
we have enough courage, our light might spread
a whole field. If we are bold, an entire globe.