Tuesday, December 14, 2004

A sonnet, my first, fruit of my desolation. Okay, I am reminded of some forgotten truths, about art and the spirit.

A very big thanks to Paul Croakin who sent me encouragement in my desolation, and prayers, just at the right moment. On my website at udel.edu/~stabosz/poems.html I wrote years ago, as an intro to the poetry section, "Poetry saved my life once. Write a poem -- it might save yours!" Now I take my own advice and compose my first sonnet, out of this desolation, at least I believe it follows the proper sonnet format. I do like this.


The cold lay on her heart like fallen snow,
A wintry hollow desolate and drear.
Within the frozen borders nestled low
She shivered taking weary rest with fear.

Where once in light, in darkest depths untold
Her anxious soul pursues the lost Embrace
The Path, the Word, the Living Truth unfolds
Unseen, unnoticed, neither caught nor chased.

The frozen tale, once told, begins to thaw;
The icy muscle melts with last reserves.
The heart beats twice, provisional and raw
The wakened Word restores the rattled nerves.

Aroused from rest, the drowsy Christ demurs,
Could not he sleep one hour with her secure?


iClaudius said...

I love it. I especially like how the last two lines reference the sleeping Christ in the apostles' boat while at the same time being a parellel to His asking the apostles to remain awake for an hour. In wakefulness, sleep, good times, bad times, Christ calls us to be with Him.

Gordon said...

Nice. Hang in there, Rae.