Monday, July 4, 2011
In The Orthodox Way there is a quote from Metropolitan Philaret of Moscow. "The Creed does not belong to you unless you have lived it."
I have a strong sense of being at the gates of a new land. I can see inside and get a lay of the place, but only that part of it which I can see from here, which is tiny. I have to move, and I don't know how to take the first step. There was a poem in a magazine called First Things which somehow comes to mind here.
After I had burned alive a spell, spellbound
by the burning that bound me, I saw
an Ice Cross rising down to me through seablue
sky. This Ice Cross was the eye's cross,
submerged for years in the eye's
aqueous humor, an iceberg crux cracked off the Pole
Star and splashed deep - all this time to the surface surging.
The burning melted off my skin like rime,
and the Cross's seed-crystal ferned forth
like wiper fluid flash-freezing on a windshield.
Christ-frost plated the daylight,
a fast-branching, brittle fractal
sealing the spaces inside itself. At last
I could see the pane that separated me
from the one beyond me - a tiptoeing
child left out in the cold, eyes cupped
and trying to see in, his breath fogging the glass.
- Amit Majmudar