Kundalini Splendor

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Friday, January 19, 2007

Poetry of Pain, Poetry of Exaltation 

Loneliness, isolation, and despair have been the dominant themes of much of modern poetry. Louise Gluck, whose work focuses almost exclusively on these dark themes, is among the most outstanding of contemporary poets. She has won great (and well deserved) acclaim for her work. It transforms her own inner suffering into radiant beauty, such as is achieved only by the master poets among us.

The first poem (written by me) arose from considering her portrait as well as her poems, which reflect all too clearly her ongoing inner suffering.

However, once kundalini catapults us into inexpressible bliss, we surrender our grief for transcendence, relinquish sorrow for joy. So--I am including a poem of exaltation (by "Cloud of Unknowing"), to illustrate how it is that we can celebrate our rapture as well as our pain. As someone has remarked, in order to achieve enlightment, we must surrender even our neuroses.

Only What Weeps

(Louise Gluck)

I don’t know what to do about you.

Stricken, stricken,
intractable grief,
unyielding sorrow--

these your inheritance,
the foundation
of your constant elegy.

The lament which is your life.
The despair which is you.

The honors did nothing
to cheer you,
to lift you into the realm
of light.

Eliot, Dante, Persephone—
all who cling to darkness,
these your comrades,
your cherished soul companions,
explorers of the twilight realm
which ever lurks and threatens.

For you, only what weeps
is real.

Your lines are clothed in beauty,
elegance of the despairing witness,
revelation of perfected craft.

What would you do
if sunlight crept
into your hollow cell,
illumined its shadowed corners,
would you disappear,
become just another
droning summery voice?

Dorothy Walters
January 18, 2007

The Secret Religion

At night I worship
Fire at my feet
Rising, centered,
I beg Her to
Burn me away
I beg

She draws me in
Until there is nothing of me
But a point of love
Revolving around Her Gravity

This is a terrible poem. . .
How can I describe what it is like
To be taken apart
Bit-by-bit, atom-by-atom
Every night
By the Woman who is all women?

Only those who have dared caress Her
Who have blasphemed strongly enough to
Taste Her nectar
Can know My Secret Religion

By Cloud of Unknowing
January 11, 2007

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