Address to the Lord (I)

Master of beauty, craftsman of the snowflake,
inimitable contriver,
endower of Earth so gorgeous & different from
the boring Moon,
thank you for such as it is my gift.

I have made up a morning prayer to you
containing with precision everything that most
matters.
'According to Thy will' the thing begins.
It took me off & on two days. It does not aim at
eloquence.

You have come to my rescue again & again
in my impassable, sometimes despairing years.
You have allowed my brilliant friends to
destroy themselves
and I am still here, severely damaged, but
functioning.

Unknowable, as I am unknown to my guinea
pigs:
How can I 'love' you?
I only as far as gratitude & awe
confidently & absolutely go.

I have no idea whether we live again.
It doesn't seem likely
from either the scientific or the philosophical
point of view
but certainly all things are possible to you,

and I believe as fixedly in the Resurrection
appearances to Peter and
to Paul

as I believe I sit in this blue chair.
Only that may have been a special case
to establish their initiatory faith.

Whatever your end may be, accept my
amazement.
May I stand until death forever at attention
for any your least instruction or enlightenment.
I even feel sure you will assist me again, Master
of insight & beauty.


--John Berryman (1914–1972)