Thursday, December 31, 2015

The Spirit Is Too Blunt An Instrument By Anne Stevenson

                                                            Abandoned Bluebird Nest


The spirit is too blunt an instrument 
to have made this baby. 
Nothing so unskilful as human passions 
could have managed the intricate 
exacting particulars: the tiny 
blind bones with their manipulating tendons, 
the knee and the knucklebones, the resilient 
fine meshings of ganglia and vertebrae, 
the chain of the difficult spine. 

Observe the distinct eyelashes and sharp crescent 
fingernails, the shell-like complexity 
of the ear, with its firm involutions 
concentric in miniature to minute 
ossicles. Imagine the 
infinitesimal capillaries, the flawless connections 
of the lungs, the invisible neural filaments 
through which the completed body 
already answers to the brain. 

Then name any passion or sentiment 
possessed of the simplest accuracy. 
No, no desire or affection could have done 
with practice what habit 
has done perfectly, indifferently, 
through the body's ignorant precision. 
It is left to the vagaries of the mind to invent 
love and despair and anxiety 
and their pain.


I appreciate you all very much and wish you a blessed and happy 2016.



erin said...

marion, i'm so ashamed. i read the words before but through the cacophony of the holiday season i hadn't heard them until i read the word prayer. now i hear you and if anything i might think or feel might help...

(i love the stevenson poem. our children are our most precious gifts.)

love and strength dear friend)))

Kelly said...

My sister just spent a week in the hospital and is now home, recuperating (thank God!). I was afraid we might lose her, so I understand your worries and desire for prayers. You can count on mine.

Here's to a better year for all of us in 2016!

Mama Zen said...

Happy New Year and many blessings to you, Marion!