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Babel
There was a time when all the world one tongue
Among its peoples shared, and language preened
Itself with fluffed-up thoughts that oversprung
The bounds of things as yet quite unforeseen.
Man set about a city to machine
With at its heart a tower to touch the clouds
That heaven’s gate itself might be advened.
“The world will sing our praises, sing them loud,”
He thought, “and naught from now on can be disallowed.”
Then God came down to earth and there espied
The city and its tower’s rising crown,
“There will no end now be to human pride,”
He said, “and yet I will not strike it down.
Instead in varied languages they’ll drown
And struggle to convey their least conceit.”
Thus suddenly each merest verb and noun
To different families ran and tones discrete,
No more in easy commonality to meet.
Our language now is ever more confused,
And often even in our native speech
We find that meaning shies away, abused,
Unable to extend its humbled reach.
That tower long ago, though, still can teach
Us something of God’s cagey benison:
He might us of our upward strivings leeched,
But left them, so that now, all pride undone
And eyes fixed firmly on the sky, we babble on.
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Jeffrey Essmann is an essayist and poet living in New York. His poetry has appeared in numerous magazines and literary journals, among them Agape Review, America Magazine, Dappled Things, the St. Austin Review, U.S. Catholic, Grand Little Things, Heart of Flesh Literary Journal, and various venues of the Benedictine monastery with which he is an oblate. He is editor of the Catholic Poetry Room page on the Integrated Catholic Life website.
I enjoyed this one. I liked the play on words with “babble on” at the end and this even brought to mind Babylon. Our pride-filled existence may well be leading us towards exile in Babylon once again. This is a good wake-up call.
Jeffrey, I’m with Warren on the wordplay front – “babble on” is a linguistic masterstroke. I particularly like, “… language preened / Itself with fluffed-up thoughts…”. For me, this brings to mind today’s language, contorted by controllers to a level of absurdity that requires changing dictionary definitions beyond all previous recognition… and language being dumbed down and cancelled for those who may see a spark of light between the lines. “… often even in our native speech / We find that meaning shies away, abused, /Unable to extend its humbled reach.” says a great deal to highlight where we’re at today. In an age where we have Google translate at our fingertips, our native tongues are so twisted, understanding the chaotic world around us is an impossible task. As Warren says, this poem is indeed an excellent “wake up call”. I have begun referring to old dictionaries to compare meanings. It’s surprising how far we’ve moved from our original vision.
Thanks so much, Warren and Susan. I’m so glad you enjoyed it. Of all the collapses tiny and great confronting us these days, the collapse of language is perhaps the most frightening to me. It’s a very strange–and, of course, very wonderful–time to be a poet. God bless.