Hayden Carruth (August 3, 1921 – September 29, 2008 / Woodbury, Connecticut)

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At Seventy-Five: Rereading An Old Book

My prayers have been answered, if they were prayers. I live.
I'm alive, and even in rather good health, I believe.
If I'd quit smoking I might live to be a hundred.
Truly this is astonishing, after the poverty and pain,
The suffering. Who would have thought that petty
Endurance could achieve so much?
And prayers --
Were they prayers? Always I was adamant
In my irreligion, and had good reason to be.
Yet prayer is not, I see in old age now,
A matter of doctrine or discipline, but rather
A movement of the natural human mind
Bereft of its place among the animals, the other
Animals. I prayed. Then on paper I wrote
Some of the words I said, which are these poems.


Anonymous Submission

Hayden Carruth
Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003


Read poems about / on: poverty, believe, pain, animal, poem

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