This Poem was Submitted By: G. Donald Cribbs On Date: 2004-08-10 09:18:58 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
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The Ephod
Deep night and I am winding, measuring the wheat
field’s gentle incense, drawing out Urim and Thummim—
and I come upon two or more deer quite suddenly.
I have invaded a space not mine, yet they
bound off, retreating to the fog-shrouded horizon
where I now see more of the startled philosophers.
Warily, I fumble with doctrine and truth, stepping
closer or away—and I notice the dark sloping sycamore,
and the sky above, and the wheat beneath, and the deer,
guarding the field’s edge, white puffs from their panting.
They are waiting for my leave, as I hesitate back
along the path, away from epiphanies in fathomless dark.
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Copyright © August 2004 G. Donald Cribbs
Additional Notes:
An ephod is a garment passed from prophet to prophet according to the Old Testament. It is a symbol that the Lord has put His favor or His mark on an individual appointed to be His mouthpiece. Urim and Thummim are used by the Levitical Priests during sacrifices and offerings made to the Lord.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2004-09-07 17:26:58
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Dear Don:
Perhaps other readers have a different perception of this piece - and my take
on it may differ substantially from your intent - but here are some of my
thoughts in response to the inspiration it gave me. Your poetics are
exquisite, and I am going to concentrate on the stirrings which this
piece produced in me rather than list them all. My train of thought
is on a 'flimsy' track with words and concepts wanting to slip away
before I can grasp them and translate them here.
Deep night and I am winding, measuring the wheat
field’s gentle incense, drawing out Urim and Thummim—
and I come upon two or more deer quite suddenly.
All of life, most especially the less visible part is given as sacred here.
The poem's beginning with "deep night" draws me into the silence and
darkness that it is to be a separate soul -- someone who relates to
others and to the Creator but is in a shell of temporary separation.
"field's gentle incense" is exquisitely nuanced -- how the smells
of the grass, especially the wheat -- the substance used in the
Eucharist -- emits a fragrance that worships the One, for the gentle
soul who is aware of the grace of each breath taken. Coming upon
"two or more deer" is filled with mystery -- it is always a startling
experience, you show us. Coming upon something that is as indefinite
as "two or more" is like meeting angels and being baffled by their
'otherness' - as if they -- the deer -- are messengers.
I have invaded a space not mine, yet they
bound off, retreating to the fog-shrouded horizon
where I now see more of the startled philosophers.
I smiled at "startled philosophers" as I'd never quite thought of them
in this context. I thought it was they who are real, and of myself as
the 'philosopher' using thoughts as a bridge to their reality, if you
will. Fricatives serve well to further soften the sounds -- as if in
the reading (and writing) of the poem, we do not wish to frighten
these divine messengers. I struggled a bit with "space not mine"
simply because the concept startled me. I think I apprehend your
meaning as 'space unfamiliar' or perhaps have the sense of the
speaker stumbling into sacred space.
Warily, I fumble with doctrine and truth, stepping
closer or away—and I notice the dark sloping sycamore,
and the sky above, and the wheat beneath, and the deer,
Humility strikes me in the first line above -- someone who knows that our
perceptions and interpretations of "doctrine and truth" are as insubstantial
as shadows, at times. I think of "through a glass darkly" here.
guarding the field’s edge, white puffs from their panting.
They are waiting for my leave, as I hesitate back
along the path, away from epiphanies in fathomless dark.
The speaker draws near to the ineffable, to the spiritual epiphanies
which could/would shake up his world. The approach/avoidance conflict
is evident -- how shall we approach the "fathomless dark" except in
true humility and realization of our powerlessness to affect it?
"They are waiting for my leave" leaves me with two impressions:
one, that the deer are waiting for the speaker to leave to resume
their guarding of the field's edge (what knowledge is sublime
and must be kept from trespassing feet?) and two, that the deer
continue to wait, much as the Creator waits for His creatures,
knowing well that there are hazards "along the path" but seeing
the choice they will ultimately make.
I don't feel I did it justice - but this poem is as wondrous as your
others, and leads me to contemplate the sacred within the 'everyday'
occurrences as evidence of potential epiphanies in my own life.
Bravo!!
Well done, once more.
All my best,
Joanne
This Poem was Critiqued By: Rachel F. Spinoza On Date: 2004-08-29 12:11:26
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Deep night and I am winding, measuring the wheat
field’s gentle incense, drawing out Urim and Thummim—
this is an example of why engambmnet works so very well to get and turn our attention
and I come upon two or more deer quite suddenly.
perhaps just "two? " The "or more" makes me wonder if the deer are not clear
or simply not yet in the clearing
I have invaded a space not mine, yet they
bound off, retreating to the fog-shrouded horizon
where I now see more of the startled philosophers.
Wonderful!
Warily, I fumble with doctrine and truth, stepping
closer or away—and I notice the dark sloping sycamore,
and the sky above, and the wheat beneath, and the deer,
great language use here and throughout this remarkable piece
guarding the field’s edge, white puffs from their panting.
there seems to be an unclear modifier at the end of that line
perhaps" whit puffs from their pantinf rising? Or some other word to end the phrase?
They are waiting for my leave, as I hesitate back
along the path, away from epiphanies in fathomless dark
That last couplet is is worthy of an Eliot or Auden!
This Poem was Critiqued By: Wayne R. Leach On Date: 2004-08-23 22:03:01
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.92308
Don, a marvelous write and read. Very descriptive, reverent, and coherent. I think the closing phrase "..., away from epiphanies in fathomless dark." was fantastic. Emphatic, the "fumbling with doctrine and truth"! The symbolism of nature's wonders were expressed very well, and exceedingly effective. I can offer no suggestions for improvement to this one. Powerful, sir. thanks for sharing, and best wishes. Wayne
This Poem was Critiqued By: James Edward Schanne On Date: 2004-08-22 15:14:50
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 8.75000
I always wonder about a poem, if i get it - that is do i understand the writers intent, then again can I ever? and again is that really relevent? and so your poem brings these questions to mind because two lines where I now see more of the startled philosophers
and
along the path, away from epiphanies in fathomless dark
I always find it easier to point out what I like than what possible changes might improve a piece
thanks for letting me read
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mell W. Morris On Date: 2004-08-15 16:06:10
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Don:
This is not what I would call an ordinary or run-of-the-mill poem.
It casts an other-world spell, eerie, anything-is-possible piece
of writing. I appreciate your notes as "ephod" is unknown to me.
I thought urim and thummin were precious stones used by the priest
to draw out oracles and their words.
"Wheat field's gentle incense" and to the "fog-shrouded horizon"
bespeak the liguistry which casts the spell. You are the intruder
in this eerie place and there appears to be a plethora of deer
which you call philosophers.
I find the notion of existential deer quite appealing and would like to
know more about this. Also, the speaker seems a reluctant priest
and again, I wonder why. "Warily, I fumble with doctrine and truth"...
could he be tired and jaded or a novice who is afraid? You titillate
but I suppose the reader is to find his own answer.
Poet points out the wheat field, the sycamore tree, the sky and the deer
are sentries guarding the edges of the field. "White puffs from their panting"
is exquisite. The deer are anxious for the priest's departure (again, why?)
and speaker "hesitates back along the path". Recalcitrant priests and special
deer who resent anyone's intrusion in their fields.
I know there is a message here that is just out of my reach. Your beautiful
closing phrase: "away from epiphanies in fathomless dark" again causes my
brow to furrow and I am query-filled. WHO would eschew an epiphany??
Don, your poem, while beautiful, escapes me. That said, I should skip the
critique, huh. I cannot because of the beauty and mystery which summon any
poet and I also think that I am not the biblical scholar you and some others
here are. I so enjoy these profound pieces even if I fall short of the poet's
intent because they make me think and this one is so plangent, I yearn for
the knowledge herein.
Your imagery which engages the senses will stay with me a long time. That is
about the highest compliment one can give.
Bravo and standing ovation!
Best,
Mell Morris
This Poem was Critiqued By: Elaine Marie Phalen On Date: 2004-08-10 22:19:42
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hi Don,
You've used deer in both poems I've just read tonight. They seem to become metaphors for something pristine, innocent and somehow inadequate to withstand the coming of the "nest master", the human who can usurp their place and - should he choose - harm them.
Yet he does not choose this, but spends his time in reflection as he gathers a sheaf of wheat and ponders its significance. The deer are his compatriots in this struggle for understanding; they, too, are "startled philosophers". The speaker views everything as being of a contemplative bent. The deer, the darkened trees, the sky and field, form a sacred circle in which this one man feels both alone and briefly awed. There's a sense here of oneness, a near-animistic perspective in which trees, deer, wheat and dark night embrace the man even as they retreat from him, and he from them.
Has he truly reached an epiphany, or merely moved towards the hope of one? The concept of enlightenment in the literal darkness is both ironic and uplifting. If one can inherit the ephod from the sky and earth, then the Voice and Hand that have conferred it are invisible yet omnipresent, dwelling within everything. Possibly the deer are the emissaries, and the speaker recognizes them as such and respects their position. He does leave, after all.
All of your work has levels like sedimentary rock, each preserving something hidden until one digs around a bit.
My maiden name, by the way, is Levy; I've always felt a personal affinity with the Levites, for obvious reasons. Theirs has been an awkward blessing: to serve the priesthood but not to lead, as the Cohens do. Your speaker also serves but cannot dictate the course of events. He must wait for illumination to move him.
Fine work!
Brenda
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