"Blake" and the Humanist Psalter

I actually really enjoy reading poetry. I never have time to, unless I'm reading something to the boys, and I can't write poetry for crap, but I really enjoy reading it. A while ago, my aforementioned Atheist friend gave me some of her inspirational poetry. She had kind of created a Humanist Psalter for herself. I thought the idea was so cool, I photocopied her little collection...

But, though I read it through a few times, her Psalter did not bring me any cheer these past few weeks. It seemed hollow and painful that in our darkest most desperate hours we have only ourselves to rely on. Why? Because I know I'm weak and that in my weakest hour all I really want is to lean on someone who is stronger than me.

Anywho...

While reading the New Yorker today, I came across this one:

BLAKE

I watch William Blake, who spotted angels
every day in treetops
and met God on the staircase
of his little house and found light in grimy alleys --

Blake, who died
singing gleefully
in a London thronged
with streetwalkers, admirals, and miracles,

William Blake, engraver, who labored
and lived in poverty but not despair,
who received burning signs
from the sea and from the starry sky,

who never lost hope, since hope
was always born anew like breath,
I see those who walked like him on graying streets,
headed toward the dawn's rosy orchid.

--Adam Zagajewski


(Translated from the Polish, by Claire Cavanagh)

Now THAT's something I can cleave to:
People before me have walked my path, the path of urban poverty, and not only have they survived, but they lived joyfully and left a legacy of beauty. So, today I look to William Blake and to the God he loved, for in God there truly is hope - even when the world is hopeless.