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| open mountain ©fourteenth |
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs —
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
Gerard Manley Hopkins 1844–1889
i consider the years 1844–1889 and i feel like a train in my chest - how current this all is: "all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
ReplyDeleteAnd wears man's smudge and shares man's smell". thank god for the renewal of nature, although we try to have our way with this, as well. what kind of creatures are we truly? there is redemption only when we tear away from the bulk of ourselves, as we face our own extinction.
when i saw your painting i breathed outward and said, ohhh, as though coming upon a lake.
xo
erin
Thank you so much for all your messages/notes--I am usually lost for words in daily life (even though lately I've been talking a lot which is a quite a change for me!) so, to respond as beautifully to your call I need time but even time gives me sometimes no clue as to what to write! So I hope for patience from you :))Always appreciative of You, erin.
Deletei love this because hopkins refers to the holy ghost as female: with warm breast and ah! bright wings. and i see this in your painting, hovering over a world whose center has the hopefulness of blue.
ReplyDeleteAmanda, yes, Hopkins--a Real Poet:)As all things Real, his voice is Free. Thank you for your messages!
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