Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Two Poem Drafts

The Stream Flows Down

The stream flows down,
the splendor bright
does flit and light
upon this hill
like a golden crown,
a butterfly
now flutters by,
a sparkling sight
of sunlit down
that floats at will
from earth to sky.

Yea, even in this world of sin
there is enough to say Amen.


The pen is split
but distinctions are not made;
all our piety and wit
is put to the iron blade.

When the march of ages stumbles,
when the pirates of darkness live,
when culture and learning crumble --
restore the shattered sieve!

(I have twice made reference recently to Benedict's sieve, which might not be familiar to everyone. The sieve (capisterium) is one of Benedict's special emblems, due in great measure to a miracle attributed to him as a young man, in which he mended a broken sieve for a woman who had cared for him as a child. The sieve was a wheat-sifter, used to get clean wheat for baking, which is why it becomes a symbol of study -- particularly fitting given Benedict's importance in establishing a sort of infrastructure for study.)

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