A Prayer for the Self
Who am I worthless that You spent such pains
and take may pains again?
I do not understand; but I believe.
Jonquils respond with wit to the teasing breeze.
Induct me down my secrets. Stiffen this heart
to stand their horrifying cries, O cushion
the first the second shocks, will to a halt
in mid-air there demons who would be at me.
May fade before, sweet morning on sweet morning,
I wake my dreams, my fan-mail go astray,
and do me little goods I have not thought of,
ingenious & beneficial Father.
Ease in their passing my beloved friends,
all others too I have cared for in a travelling life,
anyone anywhere indeed. Lift up
sober toward truth a scared self-estimate.
-- John Berryman, from "Eleven Addresses to the Lord." Collected Poems 1937-1971. © Noonday Press, 1989.
H/T: The Writer's Almanac
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2 comments:
That must be from his late book, which I can't remember the name of now--just Poems, or something simple like that. This is more impressive than I remember. If it is from that book, I need to revisit it.
I thought it was a masterful, even astonishing poem. I like the way he writes in the tradition of the Metaphysical Poets, of whom I know you're a fan -- me too.
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