For my friend Ruth, who urges me to make an
appointment for the Sacrament of Confession
Concerning your letter in which you ask
me to call a priest and in which you ask
me to wear The Cross that you enclose;
your own cross,
your dog-bitten cross,
no larger than a thumb,
small and wooden, no thorns, this rose —
I pray to its shadow,
that gray place
where it lies on your letter … deep, deep.
I detest my sins and I try to believe
in The Cross. I touch its tender hips, its dark jawed face,
its solid neck, its brown sleep.
True. There is
a beautiful Jesus.
He is frozen to his bones like a chunk of beef.
How desperately he wanted to pull his arms in!
How desperately I touch his vertical and horizontal axes!
But I can’t. Need is not quite belief.
All morning long
I have worn
your cross, hung with package string around my throat.
It tapped me lightly as a child’s heart might,
tapping secondhand, softly waiting to be born.
Ruth, I cherish the letter you wrote.
My friend, my friend, I was born
doing reference work in sin, and born
confessing it. This is what poems are:
with mercy
for the greedy,
they are the tongue’s wrangle,
the world’s pottage, the rat’s star.
COMMENTS
3 responses to “With Mercy For The Greedy – Anne Sexton”
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What a troubled soul Sexton was – we can hope that in God’s mercy she now knows peace.
I sure appreciate all the great poetry you post, Dave.
Years ago at The Advent’s Lenten Lunch series, Anne Sexton’s Small Wire, was read (and I swear by a Baptist, but I may be wrong). I rushed out and bought her book of poems. “God does not need too much to keep Him there, just a thin vein, with blood pushing back and forth in it …. So if you only a thin wire, God does not mind.”
I just recently discovered your cool website and blog and podcasts and it has really helped me reconnect with my spiritual side. I have recently reestablished my nightly prayer ritual and this website is just fuel to the fire. Thanks for all of your inspiring words.