Conversation About Bowing Down
A: If our world had been formed and filled by some lesser god, I think he would have made the vast mistake of laboring with too straight a back.
His steely arrowed finger would stab the depths, jolting them to fertility. Then he’d raise his dripping arm, and glaring across the sudden plains, he’d loose a lightning lash of life.
Oh, I have some idea in what anguished, reaching pillars such a god would have cased our world. What scars of insistence would run through its nature; how straight, how measured, how devised a place it would be, where nothing arched or swept or curled, where nothing warbled when it sang!
B: Leave aside these imagined gods, sweet heart.
Here on earth the scars are all our own. Here we had a God, God enough to bend. He leaned, he stooped; beneath his brooding heart the very heaven curved into an dome.
Bow down and make with your form the sweet shape that pleased him.
A: Everywhere I walk on earth, I see the imprint of the Spirit’s sweeping courtesy.
Swimming heavens arch above my head; the swan’s neck is the gracefullest; ungainly forms of mothers in their hour find strength to curl and bend.
B: Yes, and I too was bowed in my hour.
A: Ah, gentle sir, just yesterday I saw a living image of yourself humbly draped in blue. I heard him say, “Joanna, servant of God…” while he leaned over a woman grown a child.
All his children, fifty or more, clustered around him in muted merriment. He fed their mouths like a mother bird. Behind, above him, the walls brooded in gold and colors and sober faces. They all inclined and cherished the little human family.
I knew it for the shape of the Universe. And if I ever needed proof…
B: Hush, dear, hush; don’t speak of proof. I have better things for you.
Note: something in a similar form.
I doubt that anyone will have experienced what I just experienced in reading this post, but I hope some came away with at least a vision as solemn as mine.
I have posted this theological poem on my blog, citing you as the author, and directing my readers to it here in the original.
If this is unacceptable to you for whatever reason, please advise me, and I will take it down.
This piece of writing is way over the top. Bravo kai axia!
I don’t find that inappropriate, Romanos. I don’t think I’m flattered, either, not because it isn’t flattering – it is. Just that I think I can say that if Christ is to be found at all in this, then it is not mine anymore but His, and you can do what you like with it, my friend.
God bless you for your kindness to me.
I, Romanos, a pompous ass, salute you, sister!
You are a great writer, not a good one.
Writing is what it looks like
for you to follow
I, child of God, salute you, flesh of my God, King’s son.
Writing, no Cross to me, is yet a path.
(All roads do not lead to Rome
But all roads are the