(Hat tip, Dave Lull.)
Dave suggests that I post a poem of mine that Dave thinks would serve as a companion to Richard's wonderful meditation. Well, here's the poem:
Chiaroscuro
Believing, as he did, he knew himself to beA connoisseur of doubt’s defining shadows.The way of faith, he knew, was not as thoseWho chose another route, or none, presumed.At times a spacious highway gleaming beneathThe sun, it dwindles to an ill-trod path.Mostly, though, it’s a trail, still sparsely blazed,Winding among thickets, beneath toweringTrees, into regions desolate, unknownTo every pilgrim who may venture thereIn solitude — though never quite alone,If faith holds: For another shadows oneAmong the crowding shadows tempting one.And so, at the Elevation of the Host,The questing man inquires of himself,“Do I believe?” And answers silently,“Yes. In the savage mystery of it all,How shameful death gave birth to life eternal,Pressed into fruit of corn and vine made God’sOwn flesh as nourishment for human souls.”He continues to perform his act of faithOutside the church in light of day, his mindDescanting glosses on the creed: “Old mythsAnd legends tell us more than science canOf undissected life: My jade tree baskingIn morning sunlight never can be placedUpon some slide beneath a lens, for sunAnd jade embrace to form a living bondThat can no more be measured, weighed, definedThan beauty can. So likewise love and hateAre more than chemistry or heritage.Upon the stage that is the world, it isThe drama being mounted there that counts.Ignore the creaking boards, the faded curtain:Of action, character, and denouementThey tell us nothing. Art and life demandWe willingly suspend our disbeliefAnd so discern the form defining truth.”
Bravo! A fine poem! Mysteries and shadows matter a great deal. I understand. I might not be among the committed converted, but I -- paradox that I am -- somewhat try to remain open to the mysteries and shadows.
ReplyDeletePostscript: Perhaps I should have used a different phrase -- borrowed from Flannery O'Connor: mysteries and manners. Hmmm.
ReplyDeleteWonderful poem. I still feel it hovering around me.
ReplyDelete