The poetry of Milda Klampe
Read the full interview with the philologist, theologian, and poet Milda Klampe in Latvijas Avīze “One will come soon”: the poetry of Milda Klampe (07.04.2015)
The Edge of Heaven
Like dust we are blown up,
like earth – we are blown away.
One runs, and all run with the earth,
no matter – it does not help.
Half a lifetime I sit upon the rock,
until the world rushes into me, ringing.
And when it is blown out within me,
You breathe the Wind into it.
But locusts devour Egypt,
at the gates the old folk waste away.
Like an empty husk the slaveholder collapses,
hey, my people, he holds you no more!
The Red Sea on every side,
quietly, in silence, we slip away,
without a miracle it is dry,
for all drink from the bitter cup.
Each one has their own land – the Promised,
only not that one – the Salted.
Oh, rise up, mother Deborah,
it is the time, the hour, the appointed hour!
It is nothing that the field is empty.
Through you He will call us Home.
It is nothing that you are bread broken.
That is no longer your care.
It is nothing that you are wine poured out,
that only the Nile is full.
It is nothing that nothing is mine anymore,
for through, over, and within – one Shepherd,
one bread, one wine, and one feast,
for those scattered upon the earth – the edge of Heaven.
One
One will come soon.
And the Light will not rust away.
One will come soon
and lay hands over us.
When the earth is cold,
when it trembles,
you blossom in Him,
rising upward like a sprout.
One will come soon.
And all will become One.
One will come soon
and gather His own upward.
When the earth collapses,
when it dissolves,
you become within Him
cleansed by the Blood.
***
The sun released
all those struck by the sting.
The moon walked among
all the ailing.
From one end of the world
to the other
grew the beginning of the world –
like a castor-oil plant.
I climbed to its very top.
I was drawn taut
by the arc of Eternity.
***
The absolute reckoning –
is not to reckon.
But to be reconciled in the reckoning
with others.
***
Having ticked myself out of the clock.
As if fitted
to timelessness –
my heart ticking
in time.