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Featured Poem: Song of a Man Who has Come Through by D.H. Lawrence

Written by The Reader, 12th January 2016

This week's Featured Poem is a selection from D.H. Lawrence, a poem that appears to denote a journey of a mystical nature. Considered to be about transcedence, art and creativity - the present moment like 'a fine wind' that passes through, leading to the next line in the creative process - Lawrence takes us throughout the poem from uncertainty and grasping exploration onto at least something a little more concrete, in its references to 'an exquisite chisel' and 'a wedge-blade inserted', some of the artistic tools which can translate 'the wonder that bubbles into my soul' to a tangibility.

With the passing of David Bowie - undoubtedly one of the most creative artists of our time - the poem seems to take on another kind of wonder, too.

Song of a Man Who has Come Through

Not I, not I, but the wind that blows through me!
A fine wind is blowing the new direction of Time.
If only I let it bear me, carry me, if only it carry me!
If only I am sensitive, subtle, oh, delicate, a winged gift!
If only, most lovely of all, I yield myself and am borrowed
By the fine, fine wind that takes its course though the chaos of the world
Like a fine, an exquisite chisel, a wedge-blade inserted;
If only I am keen and hard like the sheer tip of a wedge
Driven by invisible blows,

The rock will split, we shall come at the wonder, we shall find the Hesperides.

Oh, for the wonder that bubbles into my soul,
I would be a good fountain, a good well-head,
Would blur no whisper, spoil no expression.

What is the knocking?
What is the knocking at the door in the night?
It is somebody wants to do us harm.

No, no, it is the three strange angels.
Admit them, admit them.

D.H. Lawrence

1 thought on “Featured Poem: Song of a Man Who has Come Through by D.H. Lawrence

if only we could be something else – harder more durable,more able to cope with the bad news of today. The wonder that bubbles through me – I would wish it on everybody else. This poem makes me thing about what Lawrence would write if he knew what was happening in Syria today. The soul he writes about is the same as the soul as we think about it today but why is it there are no angels knocking on their doors? I love the mystic quality of these lines and I hope that as much as they remind us of people like David Bowie, they also remind us that there is wonder in all life and in all souls, they just have to find it.

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