The Wager
 

THE WAGER

Inside the ‘I’ of existential storms
received, ventriloquisted words of God
were graven in the living rock of Earth
and carved verbatim into my green bones.
A form of ordination at my birth.

I was parched in plenty, I breathed on top of breath
where intensities of religious ecstasy,
atavistic, aromatic incense,
and numbing mindlessness of ritual,
crafted my descent into insentience.

I prayed, and was prostrated by the Light.
I saw the Christ step down from off the cross
and take the wound that blooded doubting hands.
I rose as Saul and broken in belief
I wandered prophetless in godless lands.

The years grew colder and the fire of faith
was just a dim, occasional flickering
along the scars of desecrated bone,
I faintly heard a devil snickering
“Your God has left you to exist alone.”

I questioned whether I should wager then.
(A stupid point of pointless honesty
agnostic vacillation at its best.)
I dared to hope for equanimity
and stand believing, facing to the west.

Hi, Jan—

I like this poem a lot. Your personal style tends to be philosophical with lots of abstract nouns (like “insentience” and “equanimity”) that can be off-putting, but in this poem you include some fine allusions and images that add life and resonance.

S1 refers to the giving of the Commandments to Moses, whom you portray with some humor as God’s dummy. I really like “ventriloquisted.”

S2 seems to refer to your childhood experience in a Catholic or Orthodox faith tradition, rich in ritual and incense.

S3 & S4 recount your crisis of faith. Your belief still burned dimly as embers.

S5 refers, I think, to Pascal’s wager, to your decision not to abandon your faith, and to making peace with a level of uncertainty.

Metrically, I had some trouble with a few lines: S2L1, S3L1, for example. I felt the IP throughout, but those two lines made me stumble. I really liked how you increase the rhyme density in successive stanzas. S1 , S2, & S3 only rhyme lines 3 & 5. S4 and S5 rhyme lines 2 & 4 and lines 3 & 5. This suggests an increase in your confidence and acceptance of your “flickering” faith.

In all, a very personal autobiography in an impersonal style. I enjoyed it and found it moving.

Glenn

Hi Jan. I love this. Your style evinces confidence in shattering expectations, and I admire a poet courageous enough to use a well developed vocabulary to uncover hidden depth in philosophical questions that have been done to death, as that's the territory my muse keeps pulling me into kicking and screaming. You picked up Pascal's baton and ran with it straight through Damascus ('broken in belief', yes!) all the way to the ripe Land of Living Doubt bursting with potential for authenticity. (The narrator is not alone in wandering 'prophetless in godless lands' with modern masses 'parched in plenty' and dumbed down almost to the point of extinction, but I digress.)

The opening stanza called out to me in a monumental blast as I mentally fistpumped 'ventriloquisted' and settled in for a comfortable IP pace, then stumbled all the way through S2. Looking back, I see that it's actually off by only one beat going into a syncopated slowdown, like sliding a stick across a picket fence with one foot off the curb, which leads me to see the mild hurdle as a dare to break out of 'numbing mindlessless of ritual' reading mode. I'm a willing slave to meter, but can greatly appreciate seeing it manipulated skillfully by someone who clearly knows how.

Quintains challenge the ordinary as well, allowing for development of each segment as a sort of koan, a building block that can either stand alone or enhance the one(s) before it in reaching toward the summit. With rhymes spread out far enough to echo softly and consistently in L3 & 5 of all but one, the surprising appearance of an extra pair flickering and snickering in S4 adds a well-placed respite for a cool sip of water and welcome smile.

Sorry to gush, but I really can't see room for improvement here, and will continue to watch for you with interest.