The Artist


• • •


The business of the artist or the poet
is, through and despite the pain,
to go on breathing the ordinary air
and not despair.
Van Gogh, Hemingway and Sylvia Plath
decided their darkness was too deep
for the color they needed.

The hope Christ brought
broke many people's
universe apart,
crumbling it like crackers
into the soup:
the joy to come too great
beyond the veil,
the gloom this side too grey
to wait or wade through.

I'd be for living each instant given,
each breath breathed,
with stunned amazement
- new moon, sunrise, snowfall
each a fresh masterpiece
of Your magnificence.


© Ralph Wright, O.S.B.
July, 2001