For Witherspoonians:
A Stern Prayer For Parlous Times
[Posted 12-10-01]
A note:
Witherspoon Issues Analyst Gene TeSelle was recently
rooting through our archives (the paper kind, not semi-retired web
pages) and found these 6 pieces of "modern poetry." His note
continues:
"They were from the founding time, 1972-73, but
with no authorship noted. I'm sending them to Doug ... to put on the
web site, asking who the author is, and apologizing for any copyright
violation."
So here are the poetic musings of some early
Witherspooner - at points sounding remarkably appropriate for our own
strange times.
| After
diligent research, Gene TeSelle reports that these poems were
written by Ivy Dempsey, wife of Joe Dempsey, one of our
founders.
Ivy Dempsey recently published THE SCENT OF WATER: NEW
AND SELECTED POEMS (the title is from the book of Job).
It's available at $14 from La Alameda Press and can be ordered
through the University of New Mexico Press or, of course,
through Amazon and other distributors. [2-25-02] |
i
we all know how
committees orbit
beyond gravity besetting
planets and those human
measures Moses found
simply to love is
not politically astute
and we are sure enough
of sin in other men
to be political
at any cost and
that is why
we pray today
for grace and love
that we may be
at last some peace
in Christ's tired flesh
his church
ii
"Presbyterian"
connotes severity
and order of a
legal kind
poems are out
(the Rornans and
the Anglicans
took all) music
is marginal but
margins hold
the word and streams
and seas
in margins errors
are not fatal
we here are heirs
of grace perhaps
our politics are less
than perfect
being a-poetical
we might begin
to practice marginality
for music's sake
and find in wine
again the blood
that blooms where
brothers live in peace
iii
It's a long way
from Eden to Philadelphia
Our Book of Order is
a legal marvel and perhaps
we Presbyterians were made
to show necessity
of law for love. In any case
we are political: John Witherspoon
the only cleric there to sign
the Declaration, and so on.
We know precisely who
we are in some dimensions,
mostly institutional. It is
a piece of Eden here.
Where are our gardens?
Also poems. And music.
"A Mighty Fortress" is
foreboding, finally. Brothers,
we are together, partially,
And want a garden and
a song. And minds alert
for crime in the sweetness
of our pride in truth. May
be we will not find
a pastoral peace until we
purify ourselves. God send
us light for a window
opening in the mind
to regions of the real
lost in the trip
from myth to Calvin
and predestined hell.
God send us grace
for new perceptions,
for a power of sight
disclosing brothers everywhere
even in the Church
we must abuse until we love.
iv
when the tribe is broken
the peace will die
we stand by the mountain
and it does not speak
wherever the brothers have lived
now ashes blow
how can we speak together
when the word is dead
no one can sing
before music is given
no one will dance
when the gods run away
when the tribe is broken
Yahweh is not heard
two men must hear him
before he will speak
two men must love mercy
before there is a blessing
v
the body of our Christ
broken is a lyre
for justice in our towns
for black school children
for farmers in Vietnam
for old people lost in time
for young men lost in fear
the body of our Christ
broken is a song for the world
God shames us in our deafness
to his flesh singing
to his bones dancing grace
Let us be a hearing
a burning motion for truth
a gift of harmony
For our sleeping brothers
For their silent dyings
vi
the shape of Christ
is time
he has been laval
and great lizards
dying under snow
he is a city
and a pride
of lions innocent
before the hunter
sleeping in his
pride within
a glacial neglect
Christ in our clocks
turns in the
ghetto of our days
Kyrie Eleison
O Christ live
in our eyes
Kyrie Eleison
disclose for us
your flowering flesh
in love made
civil law in churches
habited in raiment
cosmically bright
we cannot drink
a heaven's cup
while babies
die with rats
from hate
Kyrie Eleison
make us the wisdom
seen in fools
who denounce dignity
and choose a comic
servitude for love
