Thou hast made me, and shall Thy work decay?So I looked up John Donne. It’s all Vivian and Jace talk about. It’s dark. Darker than I thought poetry could be. I mean, you always think of these dreamy, floaty stuff when you talk about poems, don’t you? But John Donne talks about death. Death and God.
Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste;
I run to death, and Death meets me as fast,When you think about it, that’s true, isn’t it? Death meets us all. I don’t run to it, but I can’t run away either. It’s coming quick for Vivian. A frightening thought. I don’t think Jace thinks of it at all. Sometimes it’s like he thinks he’s as immortal as those cancer cells of his.
And all my pleasures are like yesterday.
I dare not move my dim eyes any way;Jace calls it Salvation Anxiety and treats it as an eternal puzzle to solve without any resolution. Vivian liked it enough to give him an A minus, so I suppose they think alike in some ways. I don’t know. He calls it that “meaning of life garbage” but it isn’t that. There has to be meaning, doesn’t there? I mean, I don’t know if my sin weighs my flesh towards hell (if I’m even understanding this right), but…
Despair behind, and Death before doth cast
Such terror, and my feeble flesh doth waste
By sin in it, which it towards hell doth weigh.
Death doesn’t terrify me. It’s just another rite of life. But the road to it can be terrifying, especially with cancer. Which, I suppose, is why I’m here. Why I do what I do.
Only Thou art above, and when towards TheeI don’t know why Donne needs God’s permission to look at Him. Doesn’t He call us all to seek His face anyway? Maybe it means something that I don’t get. Maybe it’s something you’ll only understand if you study more of his poems.
By Thy leave I can look, I rise again;
But our old subtle foe so tempteth me,And maybe that’s why Jace thinks I’m stupid. I mean, he’s never said it directly, but sometimes… Subtle foe? I’m guessing he means the devil. I admit, I’m not the best at reading this sort of stuff. Like I said, I never took literature. Poetry is hard. Which is why Vivian studied it, I guess. But at least I treat people like people, not like… research.
That not one hour myself I can sustain.
Thy grace may wing me to prevent his artI had to look up ‘adamant’. I thought I knew what it meant, but it didn’t make sense. Even then, there were so many meanings, that I’m guessing the one he wants is the one meaning “magnet”. Because that makes sense, to me at least. God being a magnet, drawing my heart to him.
And thou like adamant draw mine iron heart.
Oh, I don’t know.
John Donne's Holy Sonnet I, quoted from http://www.bartleby.com/357/91.html