Although I had stopped adding to my blog and have produced a book based on it, I thought I would add this poem I wrote yesterday. It is rather a case of other men’s flowers but perhaps has some merit. It was prompted by walking the coastal path in Cornwall near the Lizard, and also by reading the poem Coast Path by Matthew Barton in his superb recent collection, DUSK.
SPIRIT In his poem Coast Path, Matthew writes of a kestrel wings outstretched, motionless on the wind, which he sees as he looks down from the cliff path where he walks. When I reached ‘it was still as belief’ I too stopped. Later I thought, such a simple phrase any writer might have happened on it - but perhaps more likely would have found ‘strong’ or ‘steady as belief’ which are not the same because not for ever. It’s our death-in-life craving for the absolute, Yeats’s ‘images that… fresh images beget’, Rilke’s ‘In the end there is only one poet, that infinite one who makes himself felt… in a mind which can surrender to him’, and Beethoven writing on the score of what is his last complete work ’Must it be? - It must be!’ His difficult life, a backward glance - YES to all of it.