Eliot: Hurt and Understanding
April 26, 2017
Hurt understands consideration: These words whose scopes reflex so intercedently This way and that, as how one might consider How taught consideration voluntarily concedes Its graciousness to others
Whether a brother? Or else a mother?
The laws of nature jingling on God’s angling golden chain Working a way within dry hearts may make all plain And wide and straight, a pathway, highroad, for the King of all; Hurt wrings, and oh!, betimes harsh consternations
Blend oscillations With fraught contagions
A time when you before were too, too, ruthless innocent A thoughtless instrument for crushing latitude And a barrier against emergent thrusts of sympathy A carrier triumphant of a regnant blindness
Whose measures cold Engendered cold
Self-righteous self assured justifications Your heart apart By slighted tribulations mocked misfortune’s peers Gave only a decided hard ungenerous regard
Since ‘she deserved it’ So you - you served it, On him, ‘as verdict’
Thus did you hit the target with the arrow sorrow Nor yet no narrow puncture piercing through your own aplomb Nor at this juncture qualifies your smart and surly stride
Not now But how!
The sting smarts in the biting of the scaly adder’s tooth Contented in the garden of complacency you’ve snoozed When came the creature offering you love’s all-enlightening bruise.
To self-accuse Give your escape no egress
But follows-on full-weight, and measure, poured to overflowing Your make-acquaintance-cue towards a state of better-knowing A destination opens; your consent repairs a-going
Where went those cruel views Jeered jibes called fools?
You are, by custom requisition, Become, and roundly, self-remanded Absolutely upper-handed Placed under God
An instant, of a sudden, A harvest haul of consequence comes home and laden For your dismay and joy Bespreading on your lawns With complementary barrowloads of mixed-up grain and thorns
A bracket might make bookmark of your livelong page of failure As fusillades of fire do honour or wantonly destroy So a case is opened on you; bankrolled hope sits counted ready For good and ill to work you, passing through the hands of many