Shall I search,
And seek forever a simple truth?
Shall I pray, and in my ferment weep,
Kicking down the skulls of old habits,
Knocking at the door of Wisdom’s ruth?
Oh, I reach! – Pray!
Burst with speech!
Strive, cry, question, leap! -
To no avail, the distance gone is far too long;
I sleep in my confusion,
Dare the wild moon’s snows
And the trees’ fast sounds
To speak:
Hold tongue for the common sheep,
But let ME listen!
MY feet tread the narrow sheet,
I keep the distant star’s watch,
I plumb the troubled deeps –
Sssh, say not, you weak and feeble chatterer,
Keep that lissom thought,
That pounded-out half-breath,
Cheap observation,
Keep it – yours! Mine steeped
In my soul’s heat is worth a million Solomons:
I want to make the dusty sands sing!
I ring the truth of the thundered well!
I keen the harboured noise of the eagle’s wing,
And steal the whisper from the death-bell’s knell -
I, in my free vision, fleet,
Must mark my hammered tune,
And in the hammering touch God -
And then have done.
4/10/99
This is one of the first poems I ever wrote when I restarted writing after the age of 40. It’ll mean nothing to you, but it does to me.
It’s all about the mystery of trying to touch God.
wisdom’s ruth = wisdom’s compassion, being let into secrets
‘fast’ = steadfast
narrow sheet = narow sheet of water, a trail
star’s watch = observing a star, dutifully being on watch
troubled deeps = plumbing internal depths
a million Solomon’s = ignore empty drones’ platitudes for the internal wisdom from the soul’s struggle
free vision, fleet = unencumbered, fast insights
mark my hammered tune = put down a marker to where I’ve got in my struggle through life, say what I am, where I am
in the hammering touch God = in my struggle touch God
and then have done – life is over
