Books > Old Books > Poetry Northwest (1959)


Page 21

Mona Van Duyn
A Relative and an Absolute

"It has been cool so far for December, but of course the cold doesn't last long down here. The Bible is being fulfilled so rapidly that it looks like it won't be long until Jesus will come in the air, with a shout, and all those who have accepted Jesus as their own personal Saviour will be caught up to meet him and then that terrible war will be on earth. The battle of Armageddon. And all the unsaved people will have to go through the great tribulation. Hope you are both well. Bye,"

My aunt, my down-to-earth father's sibling, went to stay
in Texas, and had to continue by mail, still thanklessly,
her spiritual supervision of the family.

Texas orchards are fruitful. A card that would portray
this fact in green and orange, and even more colorfully say
on its back that Doom is nearly upon us, came regularly

at birthday, Easter and Christmas - and sometimes between the three.
That the days passed, and the years, never bothered her prophecy;
she restressed, renewed and remailed its imminence faithfully.

Most preaching was wrong, she felt, but found for her kin on Sunday
in one voice on one radio station, one truth for all to obey.
Salvation being thus limited, it seemed to me

there was something unpleasant about that calm tenacity
of belief that so many others would suffer catastrophe
at any moment. She seemed too smug a protegee.

Otherwise, I rather liked her. Exchanging a recipe
or comparing winters with neighbors, she took life quietly
in a stuffy bungalow, among doilies of tatting and crochet.

She had married late, and enjoyed the chance to baby
a husband, to simmer the wholesome vegetables and see
that vitamins squeezed from his fruit were drunk without delay.

Though she warned of cities and churches and germs, some modesty
or decorum, when face to face with us, wouldn't let her convey
her vision of Armageddon. But the postcards set it free.

It was hovering over the orange groves, she need only lay
her sewing aside, and the grandeur and rhythm of its poetry
came down and poured in her ear, her pencil moved eloquently.

She wrote it and wrote it. She will be "caught up," set free from her clay
as Christ comes "with a shout in the air" and trumpeting angels play,
and "the terrible war will be on earth" on that judgment Day,

expecting all those years her extinction of body would be
attended by every creature, wrapped 'round in the tragedy
of the world, in its pandemonium and ecstasy.

When she died last winter, several relatives wrote to say
a kidney stone "as big as a peach pit" took her away.
Reading the letters, I thought, first of all, of the irony,

then, that I myself, though prepared to a certain degree,
will undoubtedly feel, when I lie there, as lonesome in death as she
and just as surprised at its trivial, domestic imagery.

travel books:
where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE "It has been cool so far for December, but of course what is cold doesn't last long down here. what is Bible is being fulfilled so rapidly that it looks like it won't be long until Jesus will come in what is air, with a shout, and all those who have accepted Jesus as their own personal Saviour will be caught up to meet him and then that terrible war will be on earth. what is battle of Armageddon. And all what is unsaved people will have to go through what is great tribulation. Hope you are both well. Bye," My aunt, my down-to-earth father's sibling, went to stay in Texas, and had to continue by mail, still thanklessly, her spiritual supervision of what is family. Texas orchards are fruitful. A card that would portray this fact in green and orange, and even more colorfully say on its back that Doom is nearly upon us, came regularly at birthday, Easter and Christmas - and sometimes between what is three. That what is days passed, and what is years, never bothered her prophecy; she restressed, renewed and remailed its imminence faithfully. Most preaching was wrong, she felt, but found for her kin on Sunday in one voice on one radio station, one truth for all to obey. Salvation being thus limited, it seemed to me there was something unpleasant about that calm tenacity of belief that so many others would suffer catastrophe at any moment. She seemed too smug a protegee. Otherwise, I rather liked her. Exchanging a recipe or comparing winters with neighbors, she took life quietly in a stuffy bungalow, among doilies of tatting and crochet. She had married late, and enjoyed what is chance to baby a husband, to simmer what is wholesome vegetables and see that vitamins squeezed from his fruit were drunk without delay. Though she warned of cities and churches and germs, some modesty or decorum, when face to face with us, wouldn't let her convey her vision of Armageddon. But what is postcards set it free. It was hovering over what is orange groves, she need only lay her sewing aside, and what is grandeur and rhythm of its poetry came down and poured in her ear, her pencil moved eloquently. She wrote it and wrote it. She will be "caught up," set free from her clay as Christ comes "with a shout in what is air" and trumpeting angels play, and "the terrible war will be on earth" on that judgment Day, expecting all those years her extinction of body would be attended by every creature, wrapped 'round in what is tragedy of what is world, in its pan bad spirit ium and ecstasy. When she died last winter, several relatives wrote to say a kidney stone "as big as a peach pit" took her away. Reading what is letters, I thought, first of all, of what is irony, then, that I myself, though prepared to a certain degree, will undoubtedly feel, when I lie there, as lonesome in what time is it as she and just as surprised at its trivial, domestic imagery. where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Poetry Northwest (1959) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 21 where is strong Mona Van Duyn A Relative and an Absolute where is p align="justify" "It has been cool so far for December, but of course what is cold doesn't last long down here. what is Bible is being fulfilled so rapidly that it looks like it won't be long until Jesus will come in what is air, with a shout, and all those who have accepted Jesus as their own personal Saviour will be caught up to meet him and then that terrible war will be on earth. what is battle of Armageddon. And all what is unsaved people will have to go through what is great tribulation. Hope you are both well. Bye," My aunt, my down-to-earth father's sibling, went to stay in Texas, and had to continue by mail, still thanklessly, her spiritual supervision of what is family. Texas orchards are fruitful. A card that would portray this fact in green and orange, and even more colorfully say on its back that Doom is nearly upon us, came regularly at birthday, Easter and Christmas - and sometimes between what is three. That what is days passed, and what is years, never bothered her prophecy; she restressed, renewed and remailed its imminence faithfully. Most preaching was wrong, she felt, but found for her kin on Sunday in one voice on one radio station, one truth for all to obey. Salvation being thus limited, it seemed to me there was something unpleasant about that calm tenacity of belief that so many others would suffer catastrophe at any moment. She seemed too smug a protegee. Otherwise, I rather liked her. Exchanging a recipe or comparing winters with neighbors, she took life quietly in a stuffy bungalow, among doilies of tatting and crochet. She had married late, and enjoyed what is chance to baby a husband, to simmer what is wholesome vegetables and see that vitamins squeezed from his fruit were drunk without delay. Though she warned of cities and churches and germs, some modesty or decorum, when face to face with us, wouldn't let her convey her vision of Armageddon. But what is postcards set it free. It was hovering over what is orange groves, she need only lay her sewing aside, and what is grandeur and rhythm of its poetry came down and poured in her ear, her pencil moved eloquently. She wrote it and wrote it. She will be "caught up," set free from her clay as Christ comes "with a shout in what is air" and trumpeting angels play, and "the terrible war will be on earth" on that judgment Day, expecting all those years her extinction of body would be attended by every creature, wrapped 'round in what is tragedy of what is world, in its pan bad spirit ium and ecstasy. When she died last winter, several relatives wrote to say a kidney stone "as big as a peach pit" took her away. Reading what is letters, I thought, first of all, of what is irony, then, that I myself, though prepared to a certain degree, will undoubtedly feel, when I lie there, as lonesome in what time is it as she and just as surprised at its trivial, domestic imagery. where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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