But the world is more often refuge
than evidence, comfort and covert
for the flinching will, rather than the sharp
particulate instants through which God’s being burns
into ours. I say God and mean more
than the bright abyss that opens in that word.
I say world and mean less
than the abstract oblivion of atoms
out of which every intact thing finally goes.
I do not know how to come closer to God
except by standing where a world is ending
for one man. It is still dark,
and for an hour I have listened
to the breathing of the woman I love beyond
my ability to love. Praise to the pain
scalding us toward each other, the grief
beyond which, please God, she will live
and thrive. And praise to the light that is not
yet, the dawn in which one bird believes,
crying not as if there had been no night
but as if there were no night in which it had not been.
The above can be found in the collection, Every Riven Thing. Again, we are so excited to be hosting Christian here in Charlottesville on Weds evening March 6th. The updated title of his talk is, “And I Was Alive: Faith in a Faithless Time.” We hope you can join us!
COMMENTS
One response to “2047 Grace Street – Christian Wiman”
Leave a Reply
Man, what a poem. “Except by standing where a where a world / is ending for one man.” Won’t forget that beautiful line of empathy and compassion anytime soon.