(To Gabriel)
You are much nearer God
than I, in solitude, withdrawn,
can ever hope to be.
You are the blood-tinged cloud at dawn,
you are the dew my feet have trod.
I am the tree.
You are the rising sun.
Your solemn words are like the heat
that now envelops me.
You are a message, incomplete,
you are the start of what’s begun.
I am the tree.
You are the breeze that blows
the scent of cedar and of love
across Lake Galilee.
You are the unsubstantial dove.
You are the fate I never chose.
I am the tree.
You are a bird in flight.
You are the sea-gull or the swan,
a soul at liberty
whose wings have carried you beyond
the limitations of the night.
I am the tree.
I am the tree whose roots
will spread beyond restraining walls.
One blossom here will be
the fresh fruit which, before it falls,
will ripen till it institutes
eternity.
After a poem by Rilke
—Conor Kelly
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
Goodbye to the Postwar Consensus
The debates of the past year or two surrounding the Second World War have exposed fault lines…
How Activism Gets Funded (ft. John Sailer)
In the latest installment of the ongoing interview series with contributing editor Mark Bauerlein, John Sailer joins…
Back Room to Boardroom
England’s best-groomed town is Darlington, Yorkshire. Data from Britain’s Office of National Statistics show that in 2024,…
