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O Lord, Let Me Not Fall

O Lord, let me not fall today, I pray,
Not in some vague or metaphoric way,
As into sin or moral turpitude
Or somewhat less than pious interludes.
I’m talking, Lord, my face against the floor,
The sidewalk, in some random corridor;
Someplace where no one knows what they’re to do;
And God forbid, O Lord, not in the loo.
For, Lord, although I watch my calcium
And live a life of equilibrium,
It seems I’m nonetheless a brittle thing.
My bones are subject to the slightest slings
And arrows of misfortune they may meet.
So please, O Lord, just keep me on my feet.

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Jeffrey Essmann is an essayist and poet living in New York. His poetry has appeared in numerous magazines and literary journals, among them Agape Review, America Magazine, Dappled Things, the St. Austin Review, U.S. Catholic, Grand Little Things, Heart of Flesh Literary Journal, and various venues of the Benedictine monastery with which he is an oblate. He is editor of the Catholic Poetry Room page on the Integrated Catholic Life website.

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14 Responses

  2. Warren Bonham

    This one hit close to home. I obviously fall many times daily metaphorically but also had a physical fall recently that resulted in a broken bone. I’m hoping age brings fewer spiritual falls, but the physical ones hurt more now.

    Reply
  3. Paul A. Freeman

    Humorous from a Humpty-Dumpty point of view, yet a serious look into what those with osteoporosis deal with.

    Thanks for the read, Jeffrey.

    Reply
  4. jd

    I imagine this poem is based on personal experience. How uplifting that you have made something creatively positive out of it.

    Reply
    • T. M.

      I second jd’s observation, Jeffrey, and I identify with your poem–in its plea, of course, but also in the winsome and beautifully poetic way you approach what we all know is probably going to happen more than once before its game-over for us.

      Reply
  5. Julian D. Woodruff

    Nice choice of subject, Jeffrey, and well expressed. I make a similar prayer that the soles of my sandals will clear each of the 8 risers of the stairs up to my apartment.

    Reply
  6. Roy Eugene Peterson

    Easy to read and understand. As others have commented, both physical and spiritual falls can damage the mind and body.

    Reply
  7. Jeffrey Essmann

    Thanks so much, everyone. I’m so glad the poem touched a…bone, I guess, rather than a nerve. Yes, it is indeed based on a personal experience. A few weeks ago I stumbled on a particularly craggy New York City sidewalk and fell forward, landing on my hands and ending up in the emergency room with a deep gash in my right hand (7 stitches) and a hairline fracture in my elbow. All’s relatively well now: I got my stitches out a couple weeks ago and, elbow-wise, the orthopedist prescribed no heavy lifting for two months. There was also some psychological bruising, with which writing the poem helped considerably. Thanks again for your kind appreciation of my work.

    Reply
    • Joseph S. Salemi

      The problem is particularly acute in the outer boroughs of New York City, where many of the streets are lined with large trees. These trees have strong and thick roots, which sometimes push up the concrete slabs of the sidewalk, creating small but hazardous hurdles and angles for the unwary pedestrian. One walks along easily for a while, and suddenly one’s foot hits a two-inch elevation on a slightly tilted slab.

      When I walk these days, I now keep my eyes closely focused on the pavement. An unexpected consequence is that I have become an expert on different kinds of concrete, cement, and paving styles.

      Reply
    • Frank Rable

      Enjoyed your poem Jeffrey. Thanks for sharing your experience. When you fall like that you never forget it, and you’re always a little more careful afterwards. This time it was Gravity 1, Jeffrey 0, but I’m betting on you to win the next, and all the times after that.

      Reply
  8. Susan Jarvis Bryant

    Jeffrey, I am so sorry to hear of your dreadful fall – but oh, the wit and beauty that came from the painful experience. I have appreciated every fine word of this admirably crafted sonnet and wish you a full and swift recovery. I think I might keep your prayer handy when I’m feeling a tad delicate. Thank you!

    Reply
    • Jeffrey Essmann

      Thanks so much, Susan. Better every day–and learning why we’re called “patients”. Hope all is well. God bless.

      Reply
  9. Margaret Coats

    A “moving, straightforward, and well balanced” couplet sonnet, Jeffrey. Enjoyed it, and hope you continue to make upright progress.

    Reply

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