Control
As God knows all, he knows full well of my
Control; how even at my most sincere
I’m actually asking for a grace
I can corral and modify
Into a thing I need not fear
The status quo might rattle or displace.
How often do I ardently assure
Him that his Holy Will is all to me
Only to find that, should said Holy Will
Suggest I this or that abjure
For my soul’s inner harmony,
My ardor’s quickly set aside to chill.
But he’ll have none of it. His love compels.
It pushes through my soul, so holy, rude,
So confident of its sublimity.
Dismissive of those tiny hells
I cling to in my lassitude,
He drags me screaming toward divinity.
Jeffrey Essmann is an essayist and poet living in New York. His poetry has appeared in numerous magazines and literary journals, among them Dappled Things, Amethyst Review, America Magazine, and The Society of Classical Poets. He is a certified catechist with the Archdiocese of New York, a Benedictine oblate of St. Mary’s Abbey in Morristown, NJ, and editor of The Catholic Poetry Room.
