Villanelle of the Hidden LifeFor years, I sought to walk a godly pace,Not sensing all things rushing into God. But now I run, I run as in a race. There was a stream, but one I could not trace While I was wading dust as thick as blood And shouting that I walked a godly pace. There was a sun, but one I did not face, Nor see the hills pursue it in a crowd. I did not hear it panting in its race. But everyone who turns to seek His grace Becomes a restless horse the faint breeze prods And instigates beyond a godly pace. I could not be left lonely by the chase Toward Him. The ground was moving in a flood, And all things sang and hurtled in the race. And through that storm I saw how wide a space I had to cross. I heard each slow step’s thud. For years, I sought to walk a godly pace, But now I run, I run as in a race. The New Criterion, vol. 18, #4 (March 2000), p. 37 |
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Photographer: Harris Steinman |
A selection of poems
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Index Page | The Author | Sarah's Poetry | Some Reviews
