Classic Poem

When I was young and accepted the assurances of my fathers and mothers,
Before I got acquainted with God and before I got acquainted with myself,
While I waited on the outside of things watching for doors to open and clouds to break,
While the priest prepared me for heaven and the policeman prepared me for earth and I prepared myself for nothing,
Then I worshiped a bible and a pulpit, a book thumbed in a church,
And expected to break a way to salvation while the guards of heaven were asleep.

Bibles, I said, were plenty, the fruit of the easiest success,
Any print shop could make me a bible and take me to heaven,
And I admitted that if Jesus could intercede with God any priest could intercede with Jesus,
And if alphabets made words and words phrases and phrases bibles, then alphabets were bibles and if I learned an alphabet I was a saved man.

It was a great satisfaction to know I was saved,
To know that I enjoyed advantages over other men,
That a priest said that a book said so and that my eyes confirmed the book and the priest,
That for my superior virtues I could chariot my body to heaven and gather my reward in glory,
That some one went to a high place for me once and in my name received a tablet,
And that in such a drama of the soul's seasons I was to play a master part,
Basking in the rapture of the firmament forever.

But this all transpired in my sleep.
And something happened to me and shook me awake,
And that great peace of self which surpasses the nonchalance of eternity was eclipsed in an adverse verdict,
And the priest fell away in a pit, I could not see where,
And the bibles, too, followed their priest, and the same pit engulfed them,
And all the superiorities of salvation hastened by the same way to oblivion,
And here I stood alone on the brink of life, bare, stript to the soul,
Facing the rude surprises of the flesh.

What need of bibles now, I asked, while men and women last?
While the roots of trees last and the seas sweep up the shores?
While slaves of markets last and slaves we call masters last?
While there are errands left for the soul to run why should words be laid away to die?
While suns continue to blaze why should words be called in to put out their fires?

For now the bibles, the everyday people, came near, and said: Read the words of our sorrow.
For now the bibles, the cries of the oppressed for justice, crowded about me and said: Take this text for the lesson of your redemption.
For now the bibles, the haunted mills, the devastating mines, spelled out the demurrers of the silences and said: Take from us the commandments of a new law
For these, I saw, were bibles more than bibles,
To these Jesus must give up the cross of his inheritance,
To these the ancient prophets and disciples have resigned their portfolios:
To these all administrators defer administration and all judges consign judgment:
To these, messaging me in the dawn of the day I awoke,
In the dawn of the day convincing me of life,
After the darkness of the night that had only convinced me of death.