I Believe Nothing ...
by Kathleen Raine


I believe nothing - what need
Surrounded as I am with marvels of what is,
This familiar room, books, shabby carpet on the floor,
Autumn yellow jasmine, chrysanthemums, my mother's flower,

Earth-scent of memories, daily miracles,
Yet media-people ask, "Is there a God?"
What does the word mean
To the fish in his ocean, birds
In his skies, and stars?

I only know that when I turn in sleep
Into the invisible, it seems
I am upheld by love, and what seems is
Inexplicable here and now of joy and sorrow,
This inexhaustible, untidy world -
I would not have it otherwise.

From The Collected Poems of Kathleen Raine (Golgonoonza, £20)
Printed in The Guardian, Saturday June 21, 2008.


Sitting on the train to Brighton yesterday I turned the page absent-mindedly and found this gem of a poem. A dear, magical old friend of mine had given me this book of Raine's poetry many years ago; but I didn't get it at all, and I no longer have the book. On reading this poem, heading towards the sea and a day of T'ai chi with new folks, I was reminded of the thread of love and gratitude to this friend long since lost to seclusion and the Irish hills. Also, and strangely simultaneous with this almost sad and longing feeling, was the joy of physical momentum of the train, of bodies moving through space, of the preciousness of my freedom to do as wish with my Sunday, even if that were to hurtle towards the seaside with only my centre-line and yesterday's paper for company...