This is a poem by a guy named Christian Wiman. I got it here. I love the flow of the verse, and its circular continuity and searching wistfulness. I don't think the guy is a Christian, for those who may be wondering. I'm interested to see what you poetry fans make of the meaning.
Every Riven Thing
God goes, belonging to every riven thing he's made
sing his being simply by being
the thing it is:
stone and tree and sky,
man who sees and sings and wonders why
God goes. Belonging, to every riven thing he's made,
means a storm of peace.
Think of the atoms inside the stone.
Think of the man who sits alone
trying to will himself into the stillness where
God goes belonging. To every riven thing he's made
there is given one shade
shaped exactly to the thing itself:
under the tree a darker tree;
under the man the only man to see
God goes belonging to every riven thing. He's made
the things that bring him near,
made the mind that makes him go.
A part of what man knows,
apart from what man knows,
God goes belonging to every riven thing he's made.
This is a poem from Mr. Wiman's newest book of poetry, titled Every Riven Thing.
EDIT: Wow. Read this article by the same author. It gives quite an interesting insight into his thought process.
ANOTHER EDIT: Double wow. Read this essay as well. GOOD writer, this guy.
Disclaimer: If anyone with rights to this poem arrived here via search engine and objects to my posting, please let me know and I'll delete the text and just leave the link. I'm definitely not claiming any rights or permission to post this, and I'm not making any money on it since I have like five readers total. I just liked the poem and wanted to share.
1 comment:
I'm more familiar with Sartre than Kierkegard (sp?), so I'm not sure what the latter would say about this, but Sartre would say this poem makes man quite "forlorn." That the essence of everything is "shaped exactly like the thing itself" precludes genuine existence, detracts from the uniqueness by its very design. I'm just starting to explore existentialism, but this poem is a good text against which to apply it.
I'm interested especially in the second essay. As someone who is still in the "long wandering"--a framing I object to because of its centering of faith as the point of departure rather than as a point of wandering--from the faith of my childhood, I'm interested to hear the thoughts of someone who it seems had more than a juvenile and short-lived rebellious stage, the perfunctory crisis of faith that is in no way a real crisis. Thanks for sharing.
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