Without Lifting A Finger

My little poem "Writer's Block" is in Tipton Poetry Journal. Accessible online (Issue #54, p. 23). Thanks to the editor and all the good folks at Tipton. Check it out. Tipton Poetry Journal (Issue #54)

 

Kiesewetter, a thick-set, grisly man, spoke English, and a thin young girl, with a pince-nez, translated it into Russian promptly and well. He was saying that our sins were so great, the punishment for them so great and so unavoidable, that it was impossible to live anticipating such punishment. "Beloved brothers and sisters, let us for a moment consider what we are doing, how we are living, how we have offended against the all-loving Lord, and how we make Christ suffer, and we cannot but understand that there is no forgiveness possible for us, no escape possible, that we are all doomed to perish. A terrible fate awaits us---everlasting torment," he said, with tears in his trembling voice. "Oh, how can we be saved, brothers? How can we be saved from this terrible, unquenchable fire? The house is in flames; there is no escape."

One of the most widespread superstitions is that every man has his own special, definite qualities; that a man is kind, cruel, wise, stupid, energetic, apathetic, etc. Men are not like that. We may say of a man that he is more often kind than cruel, oftener wise than stupid, oftener energetic than apathetic, or the reverse; but it would be false to say of one man that he is kind and wise, of another that he is wicked and foolish. And yet we always classify mankind in this way. And this is untrue. Men are like rivers: the water is the same in each, and alike in all; but every river is narrow here, is more rapid there, here slower, there broader, now clear, now cold, now dull, now warm. It is the same with men. Every man carries in himself the germs of every human quality, and sometimes one manifests itself, sometimes another, and the man often becomes unlike himself, while still remaining the same man, In some people these changes are very rapid, and Nekhludoff was such a man.

"I said I had come to ask you to forgive me," he began. "What's the use of that? Forgive, forgive, where's the good of--" "To atone for my sin, not by mere words, but in deed. I have made up my mind to marry you." An expression of fear suddenly came over her face. Her squinting eyes remained fixed on him, and yet seemed not to be looking at him. "What's that for?" she said, with an angry frown. "I feel that it is my duty before God to do it." "What God have you found now? You are not saying what you ought to. God, indeed! What God? You ought to have remembered God then," she said, and stopped with her mouth open. It was only now that Nekhludoff noticed that her breath smelled of spirits, and that he understood the cause of her excitement.

And none of those present, from the inspector down to Maslova, seemed conscious of the fact that this Jesus, whose name the priest repeated such a great number of times, and whom he praised with all these curious expressions, had forbidden the very things that were being done there; that He had prohibited not only this meaningless much-speaking and the blasphemous incantation over the bread and wine, but had also, in the clearest words, forbidden men to call other men their master, and to pray in temples; and had ordered that every one should pray in solitude, had forbidden to erect temples, saying that He had come to destroy them, and that one should worship, not in a temple, but in spirit and in truth; and, above all, that He had forbidden not only to judge, to imprison, to torment, to execute men, as was being done here, but had prohibited any kind of violence, saying that He had come to give freedom to the captives. No one present seemed conscious that all that was going on here wa

I shall tell her, Katusha, that I am a scoundrel and have sinned towards her, and will do all I can to ease her lot. Yes, I will see her, and will ask her to forgive me. "Yes, I will beg her pardon, as children do." . . . He stopped---"will marry her if necessary." He stopped again, folded his hands in front of his breast as he used to do when a little child, lifted his eyes, and said, addressing some one: "Lord, help me, teach me, come enter within me and purify me of all this abomination." He prayed, asking God to help him, to enter into him and cleanse him; and what he was praying for had happened already: the God within him had awakened his consciousness. He felt himself one with Him, and therefore felt not only the freedom, fulness and joy of life, but all the power of righteousness. All, all the best that a man could do he felt capable of doing.

Snow Geese @ Ken Malloy Regional Park. #1 to #3: the one blue/dark morph (juvenile) in the park; #4 to #6: the whites (a half dozen or so). From the little I've read on the topic: the blue guy will eventually get a white head.:) TGIF. #rlswihart13 #lacounty #kenmalloyharborregionalpark #kenmalloy #geeseofinstagram #snowgeese #bluegoose #darkmorph #nature #beauty #poetry #tgif #readmorepoetry2022 #ukraine 🇺🇦 ☃️🌲❄️

Nekhludoff looked at the prisoners. They whose fate was being decided still sat motionless behind the grating in front of the soldiers. Maslova was smiling. Another feeling stirred in Nekhludoff's soul. Up to now, expecting her acquittal and thinking she would remain in the town, he was uncertain how to act towards her. Any kind of relations with her would be so very difficult. But Siberia and penal servitude at once cut off every possibility of any kind of relations with her. The wounded bird would stop struggling in the game-bag, and no longer remind him of its existence.

Rereading The Fall. If pimps and thieves were invariably sentenced, all decent people would get to thinking they themselves were constantly innocent, cher monsieur. And in my opinion—all right, all right, I’m coming!—that’s what must be avoided above all. Otherwise, everything would be just a joke.

Red-breasted Sapsucker @ Ken Malloy Regional. There and gone again in a previous visit. This time he landed in a tree (while I was shooting snow geese) and gave me two shots.:) Gotta love the red. #rlswihart13 #lacounty #kenmalloy #sapsuckersofinstagram #sapsuckers #redbreastedsapsucker #nature #beauty #poetry #readmorepoetry2022 #ukraine 🇺🇦