On Rilke's Birthday

In honor of your birthday, you brilliant, beautiful man. I won’t get it exactly right, but this is how it sounds in my heart:

We must not portray you in kings’ robes, you drifting mist that brought for the morning,

or take again from old paintboxes the same gold for scepter and crown that have disguised you through the ages.

Piously, we produce our images of you, till they stand before you like a thousand walls.

When our hearts would simply open, our fervent hands hide you.

“God’s True Cloak” <as I remember it>, Book of Hours.

Join the discussion!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.