Viggo Stuckenberg


Angst


Der sidder paa min Læbe, hvor jeg stedes,
et Ord i Stodderdragt, et Ord i Pjalter,
et Ord, som hungrer, naar jeg dybest glædes,
en sjælsyg Flygtning fra mulmskjult Alter.

Og hvor jeg vender mig, og hvad jeg handler
mod den, jeg elsker, og mod den, jeg hader,
aldrig dets blege Rædsel sig forvandler,
aldrig dets Mareblik min Sjæl forlader.

Og dybest stirrer det, og hedest beder
dets Bleghed, hver Gang Dagens Lyde tier,
og, hvad jeg øved, samler sig og leder
min Sjæl til Doms ad nattestille Stier.

Da er det, som om alt i Natten græder,
mens Mørkets Klosterfred om alt sig hvælver,
da sønderriver Sjælen sine Klæder,
da hvisker jeg: Barmhjærtighed! og skælver.

Submitted: Monday, June 25, 2012
Edited: Monday, June 25, 2012

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