Against Nothingness

Poem About Morning William Meredith Whether it's sunny or not, it's sure To be enormously complex - Trees or streets outdoors, indoors whoever you share, And yourself, thirsty, hungry, washing, An attitude towards sex.  No wonder half of you wants to stay With your head dark and wishing Rather than take it all on again: Weren't you duped yesterday? Things are not orderly here , no matter what they say.  But the clock goes off, if you have a dog It wags, if you get up now you'll be less Late. Life is some kind of loathsome hag Who is forever threatening to turn beautiful. Now she gives you a quick toothpaste kiss And puts a glass of cold cranberry juice, Like a big fake garnet, in your hand.  Cranberry juice! You're lucky, on the whole, But there is a great deal about it you don't understand.

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. You are my God; be gracious to me, O Lord, for to you I cry all day long. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, You, O Lord, are good and forgiving, abounding in steadfast love, Have mercy on me, a sinner. In the day of my trouble I call on you, for you will answer me . Lord Jesus Christ There is none like you among the gods, O Lord Son of God Nor are there any works like yours Have mercy on me Teach me your way, O Lord a sinner Give me an undivided heart Lord I give thanks to you, O Lord Jesus I will glorify your name forever Christ Great is your steadfast love Mercy Turn to me, be gracious to me Me Show me a sign of your favor Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, you have helped me and comforted me. 

Otherwise by Jane Kenyon I got out of bed on two strong legs.  It might have been  otherwise. I ate cereal, sweet milk, ripe, flawless peach. It might have been otherwise.  I took the dog uphill to the birch wood.  All morning I did the work I love.  At noon I lay down with my mate. It might have been otherwise.  We ate dinner together at a table with silver candlesticks. It might have been otherwise.  I slept in a bed in a room with paintings on the walls, and planned another day just like this day.  But one day, I know, it will be otherwise. 

Checking Out I stand in line, my cash in hand My eyes flicker from stand to stand   Swollen breast, pumped up chest Financial plans, futures best I step aside, my cash in hand Alone here in this foreign land Strobing light, sudden night Eyes fastened shut, trembling flight I pant outside, no purchase made Just one thought I cannot dissuade Flashing near, hopeful fear I just do not belong here... We all check out, one way or another.

Naps I walked upstairs today to find Kristina sleeping.  I wondered how long she'd lain  and listened to her breathing.  I sat and pondered how much longer  I should let her rest a-sleeping,  and if she'd had major plans  with time left to completion I laid down next to her with thoughts of tender waking And then awoke, to my surprise, with her the one now speaking!

 Ash Wednesday  by T.S. Elliot I Because I do not hope to turn again Because I do not hope Because I do not hope to turn Desiring this man's gift and that man's scope I no longer strive to strive towards such things (Why should the aged eagle stretch its wings?) Why should I mourn The vanished power of the usual reign? The infirm glory of the positive hour Because I do not think Because I know I shall not know The one veritable transitory power Because I cannot drink There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is nothing again And place is always and only place And what is actual is actual only for one time And only for one place I rejoice that things are as they are and I renounce the blessed face And renounce the voice Because I cannot hope to turn again Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something Upon which to rejoice And pray that I may forget These matters that with myself I too much discuss T

When I was just a young man I met a B.C. girl; She'd warn me on my visits, with hey, ho, the wind and the rain. But I did not believe her, It never rained on me. Until I asked her hand - A riverside picnic that never was to be, for the rain it raineth every day.  When that I was and a little tiny boy,      With hey, ho, the wind and the rain: A foolish thing was but a toy,      For the rain it raineth every day.   Now I am a father and much a B.C. man; I'd warn them when they played with hey, ho, the wind and the rain. But children will be children, and nothing keeps them in, and thus we built mud castles, for the rain it raineth every day. But when I came to man's estate,      With hey, ho, the wind and the rain: 'Gainst Knaves and Thieves men shut their gate,      For the rain it raineth every day.  Sine then I've entered ministry and seen so much go wrong; I'd warn them day by day, with

"Jesus went into the desert to pray. That Pharisees accused him not of being a loner, but of hanging around too many people, especially the wrong sorts - harlots and drunkards and raffish fishermen. yet Jesus went into the desert to pray, and stayed there for forty days and forty nights, one day for each year it is said the Israelites spent in the Sinai on their journey of liberation from Egypt to the Promised Land. There in the desert, apart from cities and kingdoms, their leader Moses had heard the name of God, who called Himself I AM, or Being, or Love: since His saying "I AM" to the Israelites was also to say "I AM with you ." It was a revelation that shook the world. Likewise when Jesus returned from his prayer, his rich solitude, it was not to be some aloof guru, approachable only by a few. He traveled the length and breadth of Galilee and Judea, preaching to people one by bone, or by thousands and thousands. He came preaching in parables, imaginative sto

From many angles nothingness insinuates itself into the bones. For something without substance it is a powerful presence oft neglected. To go against the void may tear one apart; nature abhors a vacuum. Sometimes there is but one path: To stand. To stand, in silence, armored for the fight, and after all is said and done, to stand.  I often find the need to stand in such a way, as in the last months, and this blog has reflected that fact. For while grave nothing abounds around me, it is when I see it within me that I recoil most violently. Armor cannot hold one up if rotten from the inside and so that dark flow, though always present, once reared must be attended to with swift and ruthless action.  Perhaps I am back. Perhaps.