I hear Your voice and begin to dream
As once when the dreamer was me.
I wake, though, on earth in its mire
Feelings’ muddied wings not able to rise
Out of their nest as if chrysalis
Crisped the skin to a hardened shell
That would not crack to expose magnificence.
These wings will be bright blue and green
Like the sea mating the sky in silence.
A prayer surging up from the soul
Sings to God’s whispers in the tree tops.
And I try once again, flexing the flesh
That clings to the bones of feathers
That will carry me up to join His chorus.
Written after reading Rilke’s ‘I am, O Anxious One. Don’t you hear my voice’ as translated by Stephen Mitchell, published by Vintage International, NYC in 1982. Take a look at this beautiful musical rendition of the poem:
(C) Stephen Fuller, 2019