"Poetry is the language of the heart; to be written or even to be understood, the heart must be made raw, it must bleed; the psalmist writes circumcised. It is no secret that growth and change- conversion can come only from pain not only felt but assimilated. In a culture averse even to the slightest discomfort, assimilating pain sounds like too tall an order and so it may be. But to the man or the woman searching for something unnamed, something huge, something so far greater than they, that kneeling in adoration be the only response, I dedicate this book."
In her dedication to her book of poems, Dr. Lin Wilder eloquently prepares her reader for the experience of reading the fifty poems enclosed in A Search for the Sacred. Wilder divides the poems into three sections; the reasons for the categories become clear early into the reading of the poems.
There is a journey here. One that begins amidst deep personal loss and grief- some surprisingly intimate portrayals of a woman suddenly alone. Some of her poems are raw; uncomfortably so.
Here's an example of one of her poems- a personal favorite:
BELONGING
Is there a place called home
Where memories and tradition await
Patiently hidden in places made deep
By relentless pursuit of useless truths.
Do we come trailing clouds of glory
Only to don the actors pose
And spend too many years and tears
Reclaiming wisdom lost so long ago
Saved finally by the knowledge
That human truth is shadow and illusion
Yet uplifted by one hope and prayer
That our path toward peace and
Understanding lies patiently waiting
For our gaze to turn back to the
Place where we began.
In her dedication to her book of poems, Dr. Lin Wilder eloquently prepares her reader for the experience of reading the fifty poems enclosed in A Search for the Sacred. Wilder divides the poems into three sections; the reasons for the categories become clear early into the reading of the poems.
There is a journey here. One that begins amidst deep personal loss and grief- some surprisingly intimate portrayals of a woman suddenly alone. Some of her poems are raw; uncomfortably so.
Here's an example of one of her poems- a personal favorite:
BELONGING
Is there a place called home
Where memories and tradition await
Patiently hidden in places made deep
By relentless pursuit of useless truths.
Do we come trailing clouds of glory
Only to don the actors pose
And spend too many years and tears
Reclaiming wisdom lost so long ago
Saved finally by the knowledge
That human truth is shadow and illusion
Yet uplifted by one hope and prayer
That our path toward peace and
Understanding lies patiently waiting
For our gaze to turn back to the
Place where we began.
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