POETRY: Three Poems On Faith

poems of faith

Dear Neighbor God

Dear neighbor god, if sometimes I disturb
you in the middle of the night with my knocking,
it’s because so often I can’t hear you breathing
and know: you’re alone over there.
And if you need something, and no one’s there
to fill the cup and put it in your fingers,
I’m always listening. Only say the word.
I’m right here.
Only a little wall stands between us,
built by chance: for this is all it might take—
one cry from your mouth or mine,
and it would break down
and not make a scene, or sound.

It is made up of all your images.

And your images stand around you like names.
And if just once the light in me burns high
that shows the way to you from deep inside,
it goes to waste as glare spilling on their frames.

And my mind, so soon to stumble and go lame,
wanders away from you, homeless, exiled.

(Rainer Maria Rilke)


And it was at that age. . . Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don’t know how or when,
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.

I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names,
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
that fire,
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
and open,
palpitating plantations,
shadow perforated,
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.

And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,likeness, image of
felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke loose on the open sky.

(Pablo Neruda)

The Waking

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.

Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me; so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.

(Theodore Roethke)

1 Comment on POETRY: Three Poems On Faith

  1. Perfect.


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