Come, Holy Spirit, at whose brooding thought
The Son spoke the cosmos into being—
O Holy Fire, through whom on Sinai’s height
The Father spoke the timeless Word aloud,
Yet first began to spark and blaze abroad
On Pentecost mere centuries ago:
Be stirred up in your people’s hearts again.
I wrote this last Friday, intending it to be that day’s post (a poem suitable for the Octave of Pentecost), then wasn’t able to get it up in time … so it’s today’s poem instead. I’m not really sure this is finished, since it feels somewhat more like one stanza of a larger poem than a unit complete in itself, but I’m posting it now anyway rather than moldering in my archive of fragments.
As always, I earnestly welcome your (further) comments, suggestions (perhaps of a real title for this poem?), questions, critique, or other feedback about this or any other part of my work. (In other words, if you liked this poem, or you didn’t like it, or it made you think of something, or … please leave a comment to let me know.) If you liked this, you can follow this blog, which includes one of my poems every Friday, or read other poems I’ve written here on my blog (perhaps starting with those linked from one of the “archive ” installments, since the full archive is by now, at well over a hundred poems, somewhat daunting); I’d especially like to know, as part of my preparations for a collection, which poems you think are my best. You may also share this poem with others, subject to my sharing policy.
This poem is also mirrored on my wiki.