THE KNIGHT’S PRAYER
He prayed in silence.
Even in his personal extreme
Of woe and dread, which was neither
Heroic nor intolerable but sufficiently
Woeful and dreadful, he would not waver
From that discipline.
In his vanity as severely
Logical as a clever adolescent, he found
All vocal terms of sanctity impertinent.
He also rejected gestures: the stagey pose
Of the figure in armor on one knee,
Hands and brow resting on the cruciform hilt
Of a still-scabbarded weapon.
The words and the pose contradicted
Themselves, their conventionality made them
Symbols of worldly attachment.
Therefore in his own prayers he strove
For intimacy, a near-absence of petition.
In his pride he began to abjure even
The request for the strength to ask nothing.
He prayed for steadfastness. In the exploits
He most envied, heroes of old
Endured hardship and ordeals. Worldly
Attachment was their assigned
Burden of imperfection:
Bearing it was their mission.
Lest these prayers be
For weariness of life, not love of Thee,
He had read: a standard he admired
Not in the name of love
But for its stringency: the gauntlet
Of chainmail not folded
On the breviary, but brandished,
Able for the task.
Then, that abrupt personal extreme
Of woe and dread, neither
Heroic nor intolerable: a cause
To fear the silence.
The soul stammering to itself.
It was not “In fear of the Lord
Is the beginning of wisdom.”
But in fear a new
Model for worldly attachment:
It was like the birth
Of an infant: the father, in sudden
Overthrow, turning from indifference
To absolute care, a ferocity
Of petition dwarfing desire—
All vows abrogated, all discipline
Undone, all of life flowing at once
Toward the new, incompetent soul.
