Distraction – a sonnet



Editor’s Note: In keeping with the theme of this week’s essay – found here – we’re publishing this sonnet that I wrote a number of years ago. Oddly, the form I followed is a combination of the Petrarchan (abba, cddc, etc) and the Shakespearean (concluding with a rhyming couplet). I don’t recall why I chose that form, but it seems to work. Anyway, here’s the sonnet:

        “Is it perfume from a dress
         that makes me so digress?”
                   – T.S. Eliot – The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

A million voices shrilly call my name
   Pleading, beseeching for a piece of mind
   And nothing more – a little of my time,
A tiny fraction of my harried brain.
But a million fractions may make up a whole,
   Which may not simply be the sum of parts.
   What good, I ask, are men with fragment hearts
Who haven’t got the unity of soul
That substratifies all strength? No, I
   For one reject the voices; I for one
   Embrace the silence. Never shall I run
From the One Voice that only satisfies.
       We all are burning mystics called to be
       To give, unfractured, all our minds to Thee.




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