Poems and Musings of Joseph Curran

This first poem speaks to the obvious. Our chaos has caught some of us napping; or maybe comatose would be a better word to use. Even the evil doers are confused and surprised. Truth meanwhile is lost in the darkness. Bapak mentions how some angels are allowed to tempt us. We’ve all been there. For most of us the Latihan has made us aware. It’s called purification.

Which Angels Within Our Thoughts

Sometimes it would appear
That doubt slips the foot to fear
To take the step that must be trod
But fear cast the foot be shod.
With thoughts that ring the path with lies
That speak of truth which cries and cries.

So hobbled the soul cannot move
To see the path of lies to prove
The doubt it cast within our lives
That was the truth but now divides.
But what of the step we all must take
How will truth be what we make?

Which angels whisper within the thought
That makes us turn from truth to naught?
Transfixed upon the path deprived
We stand distressed with lies arrived.
To hold the whisper for all to shout
This Must Be Our Only Route!

That leaves the poor to freeze and weep
And casts their souls to evils deep.
With pride we herald and so truly call
Let the sanctuary sought be their tethered stall.
Attending the teachings we all claim to hear
As the end of our tethers draws us near.

The dark angels whisper we do embrace
That says it is Christ taking us to the gates.
Of which kingdom now before us lies?
But we cannot tell for the truth decries.
Or was it the poor that called to us?
What left us to whisper, with angels thus?

Not sure of which step to take
How can we know of what truth to make?
Or even if the path we take is real
Now only the soul’s truth reveals
For the whispers of angels can tell us not
When the light of God is before us brought.

Columbus, Ohio is mostly a flat and gray place, kind of depressing. I had only been opened a short time when I found myself sitting on an old stone wall in a part of town called German Village. Built by German immigrants in the mid 1800’s. For me in the late 1960’s it was a welcome respite from all the mid-century modern junk architecture. It was a clear and cold April morning and I had been up all night with Subud brothers playing cards and feeling the Latihan like crazy. As we all started to pass out, I went for a walk, found the stone wall, gave it a big hug and wrote “The Great Arrival”. It really gave me hope and I do miss my many brothers.

The Great Arrival

No finer green will there ever be, than that which comes by spring
And moves the grass to rise with peace, and charges the bird to sing.
No finer blue will there ever be, than that which comes by spring
And fills the sky by light of day, and lifts the wind upon its wing.
No finer joy will there ever be, than that which comes by spring
And lifts my soul with quiet release, from winters death bell ring.

This 3rd poem “Prayer” is one I wrote during Ramadan about 40 years back. I didn’t date it. It reminds me of how near hopeless and hapless we can feel as we go through all the Latihan crazies. And for me, it’s just a great reminder that God does love us.

Prayer

God, how shall I say to thee, with words of what I feel.
If upon this night so deep, I were perhaps to kneel.
Or stand within the open field, and shout my voice to thee.
How would I say with words, that stop and stare and flee?

I find myself at a loss, for worthy I am not.
To even cast these lines in verse, is more than I have sought.
Oh God, within this deepest night, where I have come to be
Help me find the words to speak,
Forgive me God, forgive me.