Meditations in Fast Times: 19. Time and again, before and after

Note to Readers: “Meditations in Fast Times” is a devotional writing experiment for the Season of Lent. Each day during the season, I am writing a poem as a meditation on, taking as my inspiration and intertextual basis, T.S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets”, as well as incorporating the daily office, current events, and other readings—some the same as those Eliot used while composing his seminal work and others.

                19.

Time and again, before and after,
Time and again, betwixt and between,
Time is eternal witness of timeless now,
a sweet, through-composed music
interwoven through the give and take
of every atom that constitutes here and home.

The part that is singular awareness
may be a guess, but it is a gift,
and nothing mere.

Sadly,
too many moments pass unattended,
too much of the mystery is missed
for the unnatural thrill,
the unfit distraction.

Many who claim to seek the
impossible union
miss the point
entirely.

Naming,
seeing,
practice,
reflection
and action
are, each and all,
the manifest,
vibrant and musical
intersection
of all that is.

Here is the sweet music
that stirs the rose petals
and each blade of grass,
while lulling tired eyes
and sweet dream bliss—
Here and always,
here and now,
and how!

Here and now is,
and is incarnate in everything,
Time and again, betwixt and between,
Time and again, before and after,
timeless here will always be now and home.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Meditations in Fast Times: 18. The deer thirst for those brooks

Note to Readers: “Meditations in Fast Times” is a devotional writing experiment for the Season of Lent. Each day during the season, I am writing a poem as a meditation on, taking as my inspiration and intertextual basis, T.S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets”, as well as incorporating the daily office, current events, and other readings—some the same as those Eliot used while composing his seminal work and others.

                18.

The deer thirst for those brooks,
whose waters are diverted by crooks,
who then waste them away or pollute.

Likewise, my soul longs for that draught
surest and purest, wild and without craft;
rich and intoxicating while dilute.

Tears instead have been my cup,
the only food on which to sup;
I am derided as one of ill repute.

I am empty; my soul is poured out,
haunted by thoughts filled with doubt,
my distress, like my thirst, is acute.

From one voice to another, deep woe calls;
amid the white noise of distant falls,
it echoes among the rocks: permute!

Is the call from Another or my own voice?
No matter, it does indicate choice:
hope must in a different path or pursuit.

Now to have found pristine riverbanks,
sorrow is set aside; I give thanks
for this gift, and fare forward, resolute.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Meditations in Fast Times: 17. There is no end to the soundless wailing

Note to Readers:  “Meditations in Fast Times” is a devotional writing experiment for the Season of Lent. Each day during the season, I am writing a poem as a meditation on, taking as my inspiration and intertextual basis, T.S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets”, as well as incorporating the daily office, current events, and other readings—some the same as those Eliot used while composing his seminal work and others. 

                17.

          There is no end to the soundless wailing,

The silent withering of hope, hearts and flowers,
Shock sets in, a paralysis where we are silent, motionless;

All that remains is to find what drifting wreckage
Might remain, to recover anything recoverable,

To pray for the living who receive the sad communication.

       There will follow more news, a further trailing

Of speculation, into the coming days and hours,

While shock devolves toward reluctant, emotionless

Silence, the only proper response to such carnage
As resulted from this unrealized flight plan, reliable
Had it been followed, now only fit for denunciation.

       There will be no end to our flying or sailing,
Into wind or over waves, despite public glowers—
No inquiry can ever reinstitute a confidence erosionless,

No legal proceeding can undo the incalculable damage;
Somehow, we are all responsible, though none will be held liable,

And this will melt into an infamous past, beyond all explanation.

O, Thou, Ruler of the raging oceans,
we acknowledge and bewail
all our shortcomings and pitiable motions;
You cannot redress this travail,

But please accept the tragic remains
of those that were misled and all who perished;
Guard them in the depths of your domains,
knowing that they were, and are, loved and cherished.

Amen.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen