Neill Megaw
DIFFERING WITH DR. DONNE
1. Batter My Heart
Don't batter my heart, three-personed God. Father,
Son, and Spirit, somewhere else employ
Your powers. The dents I have are no great bother,
And too many cooks could spoil this broth of a boy.
That vision of being young again, fire-new,
And back to Eden, the slate completely clean,
Is vain: we never were there, and can't undo
Our past, with all its errors. It's what we mean.
Genuine born-agains have other advice,
Displaying their armor-plated serenity.
I'd say those people have paid an excessive price
For that particular amenity.
Aeneas was right: carry your past on your back
When you look for a better place, and never go slack.
2. Death, Be Not Proud
It takes time, after you die, to relax.
No wonder. Squeezing through that tiny hole
At the dark tunnel's end must sorely tax
The heavy resentful body, the panicky soul.
And no immediate help, I'd guess, from the peace,
The weightlessness, the silence hushing breath,
The melting of the senses into softest cease.
No light at first sight, for you and death.
Later, though—perhaps when the pure cold,
Unchanging, seems to warm, or when your name,
Surfaced in dream, makes nothing, nothing unfold,
Stirs no slightest pulse of pride or shame,
Or when you are absolute dust beyond all sigh,
Your death and you at last, completely, die.
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