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Sunday, May 4, 2008

Down

Sometimes I write it as well as I'm capable. I am a prophet, if at all, of alienation. Should I apologize for this? I cannot expect to be understood, in either my execution or my intention. Should I surrender, for this? I have not stood this long, to fall. I am a poet of brokenness. I can't help it. I wish it were otherwise. But I've never tried to pretend.

What did you think I meant? I've said it before. Anyone who understands my meaning knows that the only reply is silence. They'll know the details are different for themselves, but the substance is the same:

Sometimes my hands grow heavy and stiff, and drag on the ground behind me, bending my back curved as old mountains. Sometimes I stare through a haze of pain out of a face like a stone mask. Sometimes darkness leaks from my lungs and puddles at my feet and rises like surf into a sinking vessel, and words cannot contain the cold I would feel, if I could feel. Sometimes I fall into the hollowness that displaces my organs and the receding cavern of my skull expands away in every direction so fast that even vacuum hasn't time to fill it.

Sometimes God is so far away he can hardly see me, and I can't see him at all.

I know there are miracles. I know that somewhere in the boundless universe there is a flawless mosaic of unspeakable beauty. I know that somewhere there is a balm that will soothe every ache, and a hand that will wipe away every tear, and that the wretchedness that suffuses some man's heart need not last forever. Somewhere weariness will end in fulfillment, and darkness will represent a time of peace and satisfaction. Someday I will settle into ease and happiness, the way a mountain slides into the sea.


I will be disliked for being what I am. That's how it is with all of us. I think of the race horse. Powerful and fragile. Bred according to a design, and unsuited for the wild fields. I think of a thousand ways of punishment and control -- banishment and evisceration and castration. I think of Samson, blind. I think of Jonah, down, down, down, down, down. I think of Macduff and his pretty chickens. I think of myself.

Have I said it before? -- that I'd be dead now if I hadn't started running? I'd have found a way. Something noble of course ... that's just how I am, so very noble. Nobility -- it is my curse. Who is there as noble as me? Not possible to exceed my nobleness, that's what I say. Saving a little flop-eared puppy from a burning building maybe. Something like that. I'd have a good excuse. God would never know. 'Oh Jack!' -- He'd say. 'You tried to save that little floppy eared puppy from that burning building! Well done, good and faithful servant!' And in my secret heart I would finally breathe easy. My really secret heart, that even God doesn't know about. Just you.

I think of you.


J

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

You are correct. There are miracles. Today, my brother came to visit. He came unannounced which he has never done before. He sat down at our dining room table, asking my daughter to join us to write down his part of the conversation for me as I'm unable to hear. He is 63 years old and has always been a cynical (yet kind) die-hard agnostic with a keen sense of humor. Through tears and complete seriousness he said, "Mary, Mother of Jesus asked me to help you with your hearing loss. She said She specifically wanted to go through me." He continued to sob and tell me more of his "enlightenment" story. It was as if an almost completely different man was sitting at our table. My daughter asked, "What's going on with Uncle Gary?" What indeed. A miracle!

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Thank you, Jack, for sharing your gift of writing with all of us who are fortunate enough to find your blog. :)

Jeanette
Cathlete.net

Jack H said...

And thank you, gentle stranger, for the kind words. The deserts bloom beneath a tearful sky.

And thanks for sharing your good news. Lost sheep are the most precious.

J

Anonymous said...

Yes, we are not sure if we can find a calf "fatted" enough!

Thanks,
Jeanette
Cathlete.net

Jack H said...

Just go free-range. A much better omega three to six balance.

J