He so fears the coverings
The sky’s blue coverlet
And pillows of cloud
He is ill-clothed by his faith
He is so afraid of steps that go awry
And streets chipped in the ice 
He is too tiny for winter
He so fears the cold
He is transparent in his mirror
He is so hazy he loses himself
Time rolls him under its waves
At moments his blood flows the wrong way
And his tears stain the linen
His hand gathers green trees
And nosegays of seaweed from the strand
His faith is a thorn bush
His hands bleed against his heart
His eyes have lost their glow
And his feet trail over the sea
Like the dead arms of devil-fish
He is lost in the universe
He stumbles against cities
Against himself and his own failings
Then pray that the Lord
Erase even the memory
Of this man from His mind.
A poem by Pierre Reverdy, a Cubist poet who later became a monk at the Solesmes Monastery (pictured above) in France.
2 comments:
Brought back memories of walking to Solesmes for High Mass back in the 80's Lovely :)
Lucky! I hope I can make it there someday! Do they do the traditional Mass anymore or just the Novus Ordo?
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