Friday, January 25, 2008

My Neighbor

25 January 2008, 12:02 PM
…endure even unto death…anything evil can produce without producing evil in return.—paraphrased from Father Thomas Hopko’s lecture series, The Word of the Cross.

My question’s answer is on the page
Nevertheless I cannot read the lovely,
lilting script— written ages ago, the ink
has faded, the stone eroded, the sign
has borne the wind and rain too long
and cannot bear the Truth as well—
the letters drop one by one, tears
in an unending barrage of tide
and time-marches-on

and over what was true
years ago, what I still know
to be true in less comfortable
parts of my self. We parted ways,
my neighbor and I—
we took our anger with us as we went.

Notwithstanding, the answer remains
unchanged—though words
should wear away with time,
and despite the chip upon my shoulder,
fallen from the ledger book I keep
whose faded ink never fails
to keep accounts—I know my neighbour,
and I know not how to love him.

5 comments:

paisley said...

this was a particularly lovely piece...

"written ages ago, the ink
has faded, the stone eroded, the sign
has borne the wind and rain too long
and cannot bear the Truth as well—"

this puts me in mind of holy books and sacred texts... a very thought provoking line....

Library Girl said...

I love your words. I never know where you are taking me until I get there

gautami tripathy said...

Sometimes we can't read the most legible of words...

Susan Helene Gottfried said...

Sometimes, even when we CAN read the words, we don't know the answers. This illustrates that beautifully.

deathsweep said...

"Reading between the lines" is sometimes the only way we can see! Great poem.

George MacDonald

"Home is ever so far away in the palm of your hand, and how to get there it is of no use to tell you. But you will get there; you must get there; you have to get there. Everybody who is not at home, has to go home."

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