It’s snowing again in Washington, DC, for the second time in a week. Down and sideways, and at all angles, the snow recovers its empire from what was uncovered only days ago by shovel and plow. Eventually it will melt, or sublimate into the air, or be carried away by dump trucks. But suppose it continued, without stopping, for days and weeks, until it covered everything? What would be left besides a sterile white blankness?
Time is the blizzard that covers all. From millennium to era to eon, it covers everything, crushes everything, absorbs everything into itself without end, until time itself has stopped. What can be left under this inconceivable drift, beneath this immeasurable blizzard of time?
If God is love, and God is eternal, then we must know the answer. Love, within the world and beyond all duration, outlasts time itself.
THE SNOW
Suppose the snow came down and down
And filled the cracks in wounded Earth,
What would the cities and the towns
What would the streets and roads be worth?
From blankness until blankness they
Would lead to citadels of snow,
Compacted mountains, yesterday
Would never change and never go
And all the proud and useless things
That were before would never be
Again, and only wind would sing
The anthems of eternity
But peace would be, an end to war,
An end to pride and violence,
Deception and the craft of whores,
Indulgent selves and vain pretence
But also love, except perhaps
It would depart for other lands,
Escape from death’s deceiving trap
That even killed the Son of Man
Where sanctuary it would find,
Immortal garden of the blessed,
To leave the frozen world behind,
The rigid hearts and all the rest
But no He said, I will remain
Although the world grows cold and dead
Until the end, and love sustain
In flesh and blood, in wine and bread
I welcome comments.
This is very well done, Pavel.
I gave your Kaufmann Press books a good review for Gilbert Magazine. Not sure when they’ll publish it.
Many thanks, Kevin. Great to see your comment here. I should be posting again in a few days.
May Our Lord Jesus and His Blessed Mother be gracious to you this Lent, and always.
I live in MD, an hour north of DC, and we still have plenty of snow here, slowly melting. The grocery store parking lot has mini- mountains of snow that I suspect will be around until May!
Enjoyed your poem very much. Reminds me of another poem, by Herbert, about something else that lasts: “only a sweet and virtuous soul, like seasoned timber, never gives, but though the whole world turn to coal, then chiefly lives.”
Thank you for your poetry!
Thanks for your comment, Rene, and the sweet passage from Herbert, one of my favorite poets.
The snow is melting quickly here in DC, and yesterday we were able to walk in Rock Creek Park on one of our favorite trails.
More normal weather is forecast for next week, with bright sunshine. Snowdrops and some crocus are up, and we’re looking forward to jonquils any day now.
Pavel
Here’s the full text of the poem by George Herbert:
Virtue
SWEET day, so cool, so calm, so bright!
The bridal of the earth and sky—
The dew shall weep thy fall to-night;
For thou must die.
Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,
Thy root is ever in its grave,
And thou must die.
Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie,
My music shows ye have your closes,
And all must die.
Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
Like season’d timber, never gives;
But though the whole world turn to coal,
Then chiefly lives.