Wednesday, December 21, 2005

Cause Me to Know the Way Wherein to Walk

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What is aprehended by the eye is holy.
What the hands can touch, holy.
What the lips can taste, holy.



What is there in this world but love? When I hear the laughter of my daughter I am showered with blessings. When I move my body my joints and muscles sing songs of love to my soul and to my body. When I wake in the dark love is all around me. I take it in with each breath and send it out to all the universe with each exhalation. When I weep my tears are as jewels of joy, their bitterness awakens my heart to sing in its agony to the Lord my God, to the engine that turns all things, to the wheel of life that lifts me to the heavens and then crushes me into the earth, breaking my bones and spilling my blood like wine into the dirt.

I think that something is at work.

I think that something is at work.




TURNING and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?




*


I am afraid, not of what I am losing, but of not being brave enough to continue....


*

7 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

there is something afoot
it has been slogging
as the poet says
to wards our faire city
it isn't courage
or cowardice.

it is acceptance or flight.

we of the air want to rise along
the tunnel's outside perimeter
plunge into the other
side of the sky
as if love
would hold us, imploding


-merry seasons brother
lynze

9:31 AM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

Ahh, sisterwoman....

"plunge into the other side of the sky"

yeah, I want that.

Thanks for stopping by. Again and again. The whole not giving up on me thang is appreciated.

Happy Holidays to you, too.


luv-

tearful

5:18 PM  
Blogger LKD said...

A very merry Christmas to you and yours, friend. Thank you for the generous gift of your friendship.

11:37 AM  
Blogger OrphanedPoet said...

of all the eliot quotes, you've chosen my favorite. it's a poem that gives shivers, and christmas is a shivery kind of day. your fears are the fears of all men everywhere, and it is in that acknowledgement that we find the strengh to go on.

the bravery is in looking a thing straight in the eye and just doing it- moment by precious moment- knowing it is hard, but savoring what richness their is. that is life.

merry christmas, my friend. may your tongue always sing..... k.

7:58 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

the poem is W. B. Yeats' "The Second Coming." Is there also a quote from T. S. Eliot?

12:28 PM  
Blogger OrphanedPoet said...

lol....my god....

i'm an ass.


(i'll tiptoe out now)

"We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods...."

8:22 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

Laurel-

Merry Christmas back atcha, girl!

Karen-

Eliot, schmeliot, Yeats, schmeats....

For me, I'm just glad you stopped by.

And Anonymous-

Yes, indeedily-doo. Yeats is unfuckingbelievable.
Thanks for the fact-checking.


Thank you all.


tearful.

10:12 AM  

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