Once a long time ago, in a fit of rage at Bernard Lonergan – a Jesuit theologian and philosopher – and all scholars of Bernard Lonergan, I wrote a poem summarizing Bernard Lonergan’s thought. Because that’ll show ’em. It’s actually a sympathetic summary. I was keen to get it right. For…revenge purposes? Anyway, I’ve been looking through my old work, trying to remember what it was like to write, and I found that poem again. Here it is:
Darkness greeted starlight,
enfolded in a single robe – and I
divested my eyes
of their crystalline inner seam
so that, self-seeing, I saw.
I met myself as through
a pale internal glass.
Like a galaxy I unfurled,
stretched to far unknowns, until,
self-knowing, I ceased to know myself.
With ruptured sight, I gazed
as through a torn inner veil.
And, self-sundered, I
escaped me through
the fissured self I knew.
In a darkened mirror of shattered
internal stars, I faced myself in
God’s uninterrupted sight,
exposed to the eternal gaze of rayless light.
And there, being known, I knew.
Anne M. Carpenter