Julian Ungar-Sargon

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  • Home
  • Theological Essays
  • Healing Essays
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  • Poetry
  • Daf Ditty
  • Deep Dive Ditty
  • Videos
  • Publications
  • Military Service
  • Dominican University

Poems

Moving Poetry by Dr. Julian Ungar-Sargon

The Ides of March

Julian Ungar-Sargon March 15, 2004

To Hershy

To those of us humbled?

No longer an intellectual quest,

No longer an academician's point of interest, the quiet

library of discourse,

To those of us humbled

By the power of this -other side?

By its sheer uncanniness, its cunning,

Its control over our lives

Be it illness, dis-ability, pain or addiction

We, who have been humbled,

Have a different -knowing?

We know instinctively, in the body

Some innate sensor, like a cat when danger is at hand

Though the body wreaks its havoc

The battlefield of lain corpses

In this body, the wasteland of past desire.

Stumbling, faultily, we hobble home from the lost war, in

the broken trenches

Whose only recompense is this wise knowing

The knowledge of the flesh

An ironic reminder of a primordial gnosis

In-the-flesh, whereupon waking

Those ancient parents felt only shame

Soon to be clothed in rags-of-guilt

Even God was called in as a tailor

For only God could hide this shame, yet

Even God could not, would not remove this shame.

We do not need Mel Gibson to tell us of Passion

We too have our flesh whipped and torn

We too run the gauntlet of Prussian then Russian soldiers

The snake beating us into submission

We too have had illness inscribed into our flesh

As carriers for our past, our families our ethnic groups

Even our nation.

Too much violence out there

Too many centuries of torture now inscribed in the chosen

ones

In pain, in illness, a new cross, a new nailing, new

stigmata.

To those of us humbled, nailed to the cross of illusion and

desire

Waiting for God to remove our shame

No longer satisfied with mere covering

Refusing the tailor albeit divine

We say?

Surrender!

Resist this game

Be taken prisoner

Prisoner -of-war

You warriors-of-the-flesh

You’ve won already

Because of your burning flesh

You have "the knowledge" you know the secret, you have

the gnosis

Inscribed in you

Without even thinking

In your stigmata the secret is revealed

No longer an ideos

In the head

No longer a mind-game

You radiate it in your broken flesh

Your pain and your anguish

You, we are the prophets of today.

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Julian Ungar-Sargon

This is Julian Ungar-Sargon's personal website. It contains poems, essays, and podcasts for the spiritual seeker and interdisciplinary aficionado.​