“They Await”

“They Await”

They await some helpful word and know the news
Their fear falls short of what it is they want to hear;
Days’ delays, too much backlog must disappear
Before the silence and its echo can renew
The striking of the bell within this people. Still
It falls within the natural healing that smatterings
Of longing, waiting, hoping in and of itself brings
Spasms of a healing psalm to the many, and for the few no chill
Will touch the man who holds the triumph of the will to heart,
A movement, distant, upward, outward toward
The next plateau, a freshly minted meme within a percolating promise, forward
Always–never moving yet never still–magnificently arched and carved.
As with a steaming rainbow, himself the crown to every several cloud
While he succumbs to resignation and relief that only ignorance allows.

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4 responses to ““They Await”

  1. “ask not for whom the bell tolls.” came to mind. No matter how long we mortals lived ‘twould never be enough. I love sweet as apposed to sour, but remove one choice how would I know? (Loving the green) xx

  2. Would you call this a Meta-poem??

    • Well, I have you to thank for yet another glance or notice as to the meaning of yet another morpheme that I have seen for years, but never actually investigated. Now that I have some idea of just what the possible uses for meta- as a prefix, I am surprised that I have never come to the point of actually doing anything about whatever it might have taken to confirm whatever my conception was regarding what that prefix does. Oddly, many are the incidences on the past during which I could have used what have now learned.

      Yes, I suppose the poem in question could be thought of as a
      meta-poem insofar as aside from the few who have known me well for decades, what the poem might mean would mean little, and, of course, this might well be true of just about anything I write albeit not in so concentrated a form. As a matter of fact, in this instance, there is a direct confirmation of what I have stated before as one of the reasons for which I have maintained interest in writing notwithstanding any temptation to publish. Quite frankly, as I am sure you are aware, any Bahá’í is in some way strapped to some extent with the inability to be absolutely certain as to the effective expression of anything he knows to anyone who is not familiar with the Revelation of Bahá’u’lláh simply because, as I was I think rightly informed by the first Bahá’ís I ever met, to an enormous degree, almost any word imaginable in any language has been redefined by Bahá’u’lláh, and, as I have learned in the decades since my first exposure to the Writings, even with some helpful word concerning these redefined denotations and possible connotations of words, the English language, no matter what its plethora of advantages and capacities, is woefully inadequate to the job of receiving, how much more in commenting through the mere poverty of the language thus far no matter how greatly prised or apprised of its glories from the past or where it may end up, now that it has become the ex officio or de facto international, auxiliary language. This is certainly true when it comes to the interpretation of the Writings, as well as Their translations, how much more when it comes to anyone’s specific take on Their meaning and/or the expression of the same to any other soul. It seems to me that this is yet another reason for which the consummate wisdom of Bahá’u’lláh [Who needs no compliment from me!] in the creation of the Centre of the Covenant, the Exemplar, the Mystery of God, His Holiness ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. Without Him, as again, you must know, the Faith would have split into a hundred or two hundred sects by now.

      So, yes, I see how this particular poem could be called a “meta-poem” insofar as its meaning encompasses much which is beyond my own ability to make clear to anyone else, and, at the same time, in this instance, since I do not publish, since I am not altogether bound to avoid entirely what could be called “obscurity” in meaning, I have not tossed the thing in the can for lack of audience, or even out of consideration for any possible audience other than my own soul. The sheer number of “categories” and “tags” alone would indicate this to be possible. In earlier years, I might not have posted this poem at all, or possibly not completed it at all. It is, however, one of the luxuries of writing without the thought of publication insofar as it is what it is with or without an editor’s slash, a critic’s heartless misunderstanding, or a publisher’s undisguised reluctance to publish something that he knows will come to no profit. God knows what I meant; I only think I know, and in fact, the page or screen is much like the unconditioned attention and loyalty of a dog when it comes to receiving whatever I have written within a site which is, after all, only a site that may or may not attract a reaction; certainly, there is no mention of me in the Library of Congress, so far as I know, but rather for the like of you and me, there is:

      “O thou who art mentioned in this outspread roll and who, amidst the gloomy darkness that now prevaileth, hast been illumined by the splendours of the sacred Mount in the Sinai of divine Revelation! Cleanse thy heart from every blasphemous whispering and evil allusion thou hast heard in the past, that thou mayest inhale the sweet savours of eternity from the Joseph of faithfulness, gain admittance into the celestial Egypt, and perceive the fragrances of enlightenment from this resplendent and luminous Tablet, a Tablet wherein the Pen hath inscribed the ancient mysteries of the names of His Lord, the Exalted, the Most High. Perchance thou mayest be recorded in the holy Tablets among them that are well-assured.”―Bahá’u’lláh, Gems of Divine Mysteries, pp: 23-24

      Essentially, then, perhaps I have discovered a prefix for some aspects of what it is that I write in case anyone were to specifically ask what the hell I have expressed within my poetry. At the very least, it does occur to me strongly that the idea of “meta” anything introduces a kind of bridge between what it is that I have observed within my few years qualified by the presupposition that 1.) of course I have my own set of definitions for anything I have observed about life in general, and, 2.) the right anyone has to ask or even to require some helpful word as to what I have to say has to do with whatever anyone else has observed as members of the same collective, the same unified humanity to which we all belong as servants of the same God. All of the above must be accepted even by myself as something that is peculiar to my own limited vision; I fully recognise the possibility of error in spite of the natural arrogance of any mind (including my own) that boasts of the kind of hubris it takes to express any truth about anything it registers in the light of all that has been revealed within the unrivalled Record, the Writings of the Supreme Manifestation and/or the Centres of the Cause of God in this day.

      Many thanks for the catalyst once again for thought about the meaning of words.

      John

  3. OK, I guess a “meta”-poem deserved your Meta-Comment 🙂

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