In Poetry: Lament
by Fr. John Julian, OJN
Father John-Julian, OJN, is an Episcopal priest, monk, and author of nine books. A Wisconsin native, he served parishes in Wisconsin, New Hampshire, and Connecticut and was the founding dean of New York’s “Seminary of the Streets.” He has taught at the Universities of Rhode Island and Connecticut. In 1985, he founded the contemplative Order of Julian of Norwich. His first collection of poetry--Eyes Have I That See—will be published by Paraclete Press in February.
Lament
On a far lost day,
a sounding seagull’s soar
set proud the wide blue waste
and sketched the weak horizon
with whip-bent wings—all pride stiff.
What prey that day,
whirling and willing,
under a silent sun;
what hopes that
now breach knowledge
in the hopeless wash
of tide?
As a fragile skull
of a gray-white gull
moves water ways,
swung and rolled
by the swell
of the earth-girt tides
and the wander of sea and sand.
God save the day,
and the work,
and the love,
and roll my song-skull
through the seas
until he hears it sing
between the waves
and knows death-dying
that I sang
of him.
Father John-Julian, OJN, is an Episcopal priest, monk, and author of nine books. A Wisconsin native, he served parishes in Wisconsin, New Hampshire, and Connecticut and was the founding dean of New York’s “Seminary of the Streets.” He has taught at the Universities of Rhode Island and Connecticut. In 1985, he founded the contemplative Order of Julian of Norwich. His first collection of poetry--Eyes Have I That See—will be published by Paraclete Press in February.
Lament
On a far lost day,
a sounding seagull’s soar
set proud the wide blue waste
and sketched the weak horizon
with whip-bent wings—all pride stiff.
What prey that day,
whirling and willing,
under a silent sun;
what hopes that
now breach knowledge
in the hopeless wash
of tide?
As a fragile skull
of a gray-white gull
moves water ways,
swung and rolled
by the swell
of the earth-girt tides
and the wander of sea and sand.
God save the day,
and the work,
and the love,
and roll my song-skull
through the seas
until he hears it sing
between the waves
and knows death-dying
that I sang
of him.
