Πνεῦμα

Πνεῦμα 

(Pneuma)

I hear you in the near silent sleep of Gabriel

The great proclaimer of good news,

Resting in infancy.

You whisper through his tiny nostrils

Nourishing the matrix of his budding cells

With so much more than bread.

I hear you in autumn’s rustling mural

Fluttering flaming flakes before the blue

With a cogency unseen.

You whistle past our window cills

Piercing through our self-made hells

For which the incarnate bled.

I hear you sing beneath the sensorial 

The tone beneath the chord, within the myth the true,

A resounding symphony

That echoes between hearts and hills,

That melodies in the deepest living well;

The source from which all souls are fed.

This poem is inspired by the reflections of Owen Barfield, often called the ‘First and Last Inkling,’ who, in his book ‘Poetic Diction’, reflects on the evolution of language. The Greek work ‘pneuma’ can accurately be translated as ‘breath', 'wind' or 'spirit' depending on the context (It is the same with Hebrew word ‘ruach’ and the Latin word ‘spiritus’). To Barfield, this reveals something of the unified worldview and integrated participation of the speakers of these ancient languages, where to breathe and to feel the wind blowing were spiritual experiences. ‘Gabriel’ mentioned in the first line is the name of my baby son.

This poem takes us these three concepts of 'breath', 'wind' and 'spirit', exploring the spiritual participation and unity across the three concepts.







This short documentary 'Owen Barfield - Man and Meaning' is a great place to start in getting to know Barfield and his thought https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oedVDN1xOWM&t=2s