Now he haunts me seldom: some fierce umbilical is broken, I live with my own fragile hopes and sudden rising despair. Now I do not weep for my sins; I have learned to love them And to know that they are the wounds that make love real. His face illudes me; his voice, with its pity, does not ring in my ear. His maxims memorized in boyhood do not make fruitless and pointless my experience. I walk alone, but not so terrified as when he held my hand. I do not splash in the blood of his sonnor hear the crunch of nails or thorns piercing protesting flesh. I am a boy again-- I whose boyhood was turned to manhood in a brutal myth. Now wine is only wine with drops that do not taste of blood. The bread I eat has too much pride for transubstantiation, I, too--and together the bread and I embrace, Each grateful to be what we are, each loving from our own reality.James Kavanaugh
About This Quote
The poem leads up to the statement, “Now I do not weep for my sins; I have learned to love them.” The speaker is describing how he has progressed towards accepting his sins. Now he doesn’t cry for his sins anymore, because he has learned to love them. He has come to see that it is the material he has done wrong that makes love real. His actions and thoughts don’t hold any meaning for him, because they are the wounds that make love real.
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