That Word Page 4

and now must

  give away. We too

  were born

  for this. And we too

  must lie

  down on the white linen

  and be broken in two.

  We too must be

  lifted up

  from the wrinkled cloth

  of our lives,

  and in our elevation

  be divided

  and given.

  Postcommunion

  (John Donne)

  When we awake from our very long dark dream—

  from the black-and-white photos of our lives—

  bring us, as you would a friend,

  through that knobless door,

  into a place of startling color

  where there shall never again be darkness

  swallowing us

  nor a glare

  that blinds

  but one perfect light,

  shining on each of us the same—

  no noise

  grating us to distraction

  or disturbing us with its high whistle—

  but music, settling

  into a deep, secret place within us

  where only music reaches—

  no crippling fears,

  nor unrealized hopes

  but a place in which all will be

  perfectly and sumptuously well—

  no tremulous beginnings,

  nor uncertain endings

  but an eternity so perfect

  we almost won’t believe it—

  no tumult

  that takes us up and wrings us out

  in an instant

  like a towel—

  no grumbling

  like the steady rocking

  of a distant train

  moving closer

  but crystal air that surrounds us

  as we are surrounded

  when submerged

  in clear blue water

  that place toward which

  we have been guided

  —side-by-side,

  hand-in-hand—

  where we will not wear

  our accomplishments on our souls

  but rather smiles will be placed

  where our wounds used to be.

  Commendation

  Take from him

  whatever stains

  even Communion

  and devotion

  can’t undo.

  And let him

  rise up—

  if not today

  one day soon—

  from the ashes

  we placed

  so carefully into

  the dark recess

  of the earth

  and left there

  where the rain’s soaking

  and the snow’s run-off

  and the heat of high noon

  cannot reach him

  anymore.

  Let him rise up

  from there

  more beautiful

  than he is

  in those dreams

  from which I myself

  rise and stumble

  toward a

  slightly overcast

  dawn.

  Notes

  Epigraph: W.H. Auden (1907-1973) Anglo-American poet.

  Part I: Epigraph: Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889) English poet and Roman Catholic Jesuit priest.

  “The Feast of the Holy Cross”: “The ladder is long . . .” is from the hymn “As Jacob with travel was weary one day.”

  “St. Hildegard’s Day”: St. Hildegard (1098-1179) was a German Benedictine nun and mystic; her feast day in the Episcopal Church is September 17.

  “First Frost”: Wei Ying-Wu (737-792) Chinese poet.

  “That Word”: Anna Akhmotova (1889-1966) was a Russian poet.

  “Resurrection”: Yehuda Amichai (1924-2000) Israeli poet.

  “Psalm”: Paul Celan (1920-1970) was a French poet.

  “Descent”: Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926) was an Austrian poet.

  “Agnes Dei”: R.S. Thomas (1913-2000) was a Welsh poet and Anglican priest.

  “Postcommunion”: John Donne (1572-1631) was an English poet and Anglican priest.

  About the Poet

  JAMIE PARSLEY is a poet and an Episcopal priest. He is the author of eleven books of poems, Paper Doves, Falling and Other Poems (1992), The Loneliness of Blizzards (1995), Cloud: a poem in 2 acts (1997), The Wounded Table (1999), earth into earth, water into water (2000), no stars, no moon (2004), Ikon (2005), Just Once (2007), This Grass (2009) Fargo, 1957 (2010) and Crow (2012). He received his MFA from Vermont College and a Master’s Degree from Nashotah House Seminary. He serves as Priest in Charge of St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church in Fargo. In 2004, he was designated Associate Poet Laureate of North Dakota. His website is www.jamieparsley.com.