Abstract
Over the years I have increasingly come to love poetry. This came as a bit of surprise. I remember at school not enjoying poetry at all. I also remember as a teen watching the film The Dead Poets Society, and wishing I could fast forward the poetry parts to the story parts! ‘I’m a story person!’ I thought. What I missed then was that poems are stories that come with a personal invitation from the author to slow down, engage your imagination and to enter in.
As part of my repentance and study leave from parish ministry, I spent some time with dead poets such as George Herbert. I also got to spend some time with the alive poet Malcom Guite who, bless him, encouraged me in my writing of poems. It turns out that sonnets are my favourite form of poetry. I am no John Donne or Gerard Manley Hopkins, but I offer you this sonnet as part of my on-going repentance and as an encouragement to (re)visit the Dead and Alive Poets Society and have a go. For those familiar with their work, you may notice that my sonnet draws on George Herbert, William Ernest Henley, Madonna and of course from Genesis chapters one to three.
What’s the story?
In the beginning the story proceeds:
Out of vacuous void and darkest deep comes a spark, a bang, chicken, egg or seed? Quite the primordial soup that steeped!
“A singularity occurred,”
chorus the material girls and boys,
“but a loving first-move maker – absurd!”
But what if a song sings through the background noise? A celestial sung refrain, “Let there be. . .” and there was light, and life and it was good. The voice touched earth, and the singer breathed breath in them and us and it was very good. Animated carbon copies – applaud! Life teemed, humans teamed and teamed with God.
Back in the day(s) the story unfolds:
There was evening and morning; work, rest, play. And a display – not grim and bare, stone cold, a floral, faunal sensory array, a bouquet of colour, banquet of food, all plant bearing seeds, all tree bearing fruit.
“Come touch, taste and see that the Lord is good!”
“Taste life, taste all, bar one with bitter route!”
The question – to trust or not to trust God? To bask in the sun and orbit as moon? Or claim stardom(ain) and snatch sceptre and rod?
“Let him revolve, he can dance to my tune!”
Encouraged by primeval, prime evil snake, self-primed, they chose as we choose to take.
In the formative years, the story goes:
“My Soul!” captains Adam and Eve set course. Self-determined selves, birthed sin and brought woes, shunning the enlivening sacred source. But, to the garden shunned Love draws near to re-establish vital connection. All knowing, his call “Where are you?” rings clear, emitting holiness and affection. Do they come clean, bring all into the light? No, they choose like us, to run, blame and hide. Forever? No hope in hell to reunite?. . . Enter the hope of heaven to turn tide, to crush snake, and undo death and decay. For a pierced saviour will enter the fray!