Here is another
writer new to me. Of course it would be silly to think I’ve heard of everyone, have read everything. I am always digging and drawn to the ones who never had the full stage but were part of the band or at least got to sit in the front row. But many a book on my shelves will be unread after I am gone. I was going to read a series of Frank Horne's poems entitled, Letters Found Near a Suicide. But I had to pass for now because after re-reading one and reading another anew, it just hurt a bit more than expected, so I am going to read, Walk. Also, I learned a new word, paean: paean (n.) "hymn of praise, song of triumph;" in general use, "a loud and joyous song," 1590s, from Latin paean "hymn of deliverance, hymn to a help-giving god," from Greek paian "hymn, chant, hymn to Apollo," from Paian, Paiōn, a name of the god of healing; originally the physician of the gods (in Homer), later merged with Apollo; literally "one who touches" (i.e. "one who heals by a touch"), probably taken from a phrase or word at the beginning of the hymn, from paio "to touch, strike." The notion seems to be either a cry asking for aid in war or other trouble, or a giving thanks for aid received. Patience Patience…patience they all say… but will patience climb up a stair or pick up a spoon or chant a litany? …those hollows worn in a cathedral step by the long slow prayers of countless worshippers kneeling… But do I not have a hundred years nor forty nor ten- O you they call Eternal to whom a thousand years are but the wink of a languid eye- help me to crowd years of patient trial and error into the few flying days I have… Lend me but a jot of Your aeon-packed eternity compress its infinite patience into hours and minutes if it be Thy will and the paean of my earthly gratitude will reach up and shake the very pillars of the everlasting heavens…
Thanks for this. Beautiful poem, and reflection on the word paean.