A while back, I composed and posted a poem titled “Sing, O Barren, Sing,” loosely based on text from the Book of Isaiah. I never felt the poem was quite right– the opening stanza didn’t really fit with the other two stanzas, and they didn’t fit with the title. It seemed a mishmash of ideas.
I’ve been in a revising mood lately, and this one did not escape. All that remains of the original draft is the title. There is now a closer relationship between the stanzas and the title, and all stanzas relate as well. Let me know what you think.
SING, O BARREN, SING
Heaven does not seek our harmonies.
If we would join them
to the sacred monochord,
it must be through our will.
And, neither do our discords matter
to the music of the spheres.
Only we hear atonal notes
that question truth and beauty.
Left alone in the garden,
to find and know the light,
we must sing to the dark.