These Fragments

I love this poem by the young Rainer Maria Rilke, from his Book of Hours, an exquisite collection of 'love poems to God' that speak of the joy, elation, pain and excruciating tension of a life entrusting itself to Him

I am praying again, Awesome One.

You hear me again, as words
from the depths of me
rush toward you in the wind.

I've been scattered in pieces,
torn by conflict,
mocked by laughter,
washed down in drink.

In alleyways I sweep myself up
out of garbage and broken glass.
With my half-mouth I stammer you,
who are eternal in your symmetry.
I lift to you my half-hands
in wordless beseeching, that I may find again
the eyes with which I once beheld you.

I am a house gutted by fire
where only the guilty sometimes sleep
before the punishment that devours them
hounds them out into the open.

I am a city by the sea
sinking into a toxic tide.
I am strange to myself, as though someone unknown
had poisoned my mother as she carried
me.

It's here in all the pieces of my shame
that I now find myself again.
I yearn to belong to something, to be contained
in an all-embracing mind that sees me
as a single thing.
I yearn to be held
in the great hands of your heart -
oh let them take me now.

Into them I place these fragments, my life,
and you, God - spend them however you want.

I remember when I first read these poems, a non-church friend had lent the book to me as she thought I, as a Christian, might find them interesting, relevant. I was struck by the beauty of the words, but could not relate to the author, and developed a rather condescending attitude towards Rilke, who during this intense spiritual stage vacillated wildly between piety and debasement. I remember thinking, 'poor man, if he had really loved God he would never have done those bad things.'

Looking back, I can't believe how naively I had interpreted the situation. When I separated myself from the church, and looked at myself warts and all, these poems became somewhat of a beacon to me, notwithstanding the Bible. I felt his joy, and the ache of unworthiness in the face of God, so compassionate and benevolent. It helped me to embrace the tension, the duality of existence, to step outside the black and white.

After all, tension is balance. Whoever said it was going to be easy?