A Poem by Gerard Garrigan, OSB

The Past: In Tribute to William Faulkner

     The past is never dead. It’s not even past.
    – William Faulkner, Requiem for a Nun

Being a young fool, I tried to outrun my past
Oh, and I ran fast, I ran real, real, real fast
And now that I have become an old, old fool
I have learned the only way that wisdom’s gained
After a million missteps and big buckets full of pain
That nothing in this broken world can last
Nothing in this broken world can last
As long, even half as long, as the past
The past that is nothing if not strong
That, wherever in this world we roam,
Like our shadow, always tags along

Gerard Garrigan, OSB is a Benedictine monk of Saint Louis Abbey in St. Louis, Missouri. Free digital copies of his poetry may be obtained by emailing him at frgerard@priory.org. This poem originally appeared in The Faulkner Journal, vol. 34, no. 1 (Spring 2020), and is reprinted here with the author’s permission.

Photo by Gerard Garrigan