DELIGHTS OF THE BLESSED

DELIGHTS OF THE BLESSED
DELIGHTS OF THE BLESSED
DELIGHTS OF THE BLESSED

Frederick Pollack

Afterwards your life appears
like a planet rotating
below you in the viewport of a spaceship,
or like someone struggling in a well.

You turn away. Those most distressed
by what they saw often attack those
who stare: “You’re like a beetle
hugging its ball of dung!”

There are also people who point out
the selfishness and narrowness of such viewing,
their critique as incontrovertible
and futile there as here.

As for heaven itself,
it resembles a bamboo grove
in winter, swaying in the wind,
the day neither bright nor dark.

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