The Voluble Self
The interior voice never stops talking;
It’s the voice of that constant distraction.
Try hard to pray, it says speaking loudly,
Comically at times if you understand:
Hail Mary full of leaves blowing fiercely— 5
Full of grace but not the leaves or the wind;
Blessed art thou among women, Blessed
Is the fruit of the apple, pear, the oak,
Mighty oak, where did that come from? our yard,
Holding its leaves till spring. Damn! Hail Mary 10
Full of grace, blessed art thou among girls,
Not girls, women, who are lovely in ads,
Lovely in springtime, lovely in summer,
When the wind blows softly through long dark hair— 15
It’s no use, the voice of distraction wins,
Wins today. If only the hot fierce wind
From above would descend, blow the mind clear,
Of the ever-talking interior self
So that I might be free to hear God near, 20
The still small voice behind the noise, sudden, searing!
