A Talisman-Poem: Robert Creeley's "For No Reason"

There is a mercy which appears as enveloping as mist or fog or even sunshine when clouds break. In this poem it first appears as dust. No matter what form it takes, the mercy seems a grace, undeserved, unbidden except for, perhaps, the desperation that preceded it. Later it seems that unbeknownst to you that desperation's survival ability had acted unexpectedly, improbably, as an agency, as conduit of mercy's flow. Readers of "Dark Night of the Soul" will understand this mystery. The sudden change of circumstance is, I think now, the autonomic protection of prayer, a habit so strong and ceaseless we do not realize its workings within us.

When my teacher told me that in my days preceding him, "Despair was your way," I think now he was not disapproving of or chastising me for this preferred modality because it was anchored to prayer. I think he knew I fell prey to prayer when it mattered most and was, in that way, dependable in my faith. Think of it in an existential way: as prayer so pure and troubled it did not need the thought or mention of God to be made; as prayer that wasn't answer to any plea or wish but resumption of a condition where it is native and natural.

I thought of my youth and my frequent mental turbulence this morning and those occasions of mercy's resumption and dominion when I read a poem that meant the world to me four turns (a turn = one decade) below on the spiral staircase where I now stand: Robert Creeley's

FOR NO CLEAR REASON

I dreamt last night
that fright was over, that
the dust came, and then water,
and women and men, together
again, and all was quiet
in the dim moon's light.

I paean of such patience--
laughing, laughing at me,
and the days extend over
the earth's great cover,
grass, trees, and flower-
ing season, for no clear reason.

--Robert Creeley, For Love, 1962
P.S., Don't be put off by the words "laughing, laughing at me." Mercy does not mock. It smiles; its laughter is gentle. Creeley was then still to much of an ironist to let his reader know how he languished in the relief that mercy brought. I didn't know til now what relief the mercy brought and was/is preserved in this poem. I hope Creeley, who died in March of 2005, received as much pleasure growing old with this poem as I have. I can't thank God enough for his companionship.