one of our pioneer students this year found her voice not only as a brilliant feminist theologian and pioneer but also as a poet. her MA dissertation incorporated a few poems including one on formation. formation is a word i confess i did not use before i got involved in training people getting ordained. it's whispered in magical tones in grand corridors because that's what it is all about apparently. from day one that i got involved i sought to find out what people were getting at and realised pretty quickly there are formations plural i.e. a range of ways of training and forming students and maybe not all aspects are desirable. it's something contested in other words and i hope at cms we have developed our own take on what formation might be. but all that to say ruth wells has a poem formation on her blog that i hope she won't mind me posting here and linking to. she has some others on her new web site playing with poetry - go follow along.
Confirmation of conformity
Me squeezed into a too tight, uptight, cassock shaped mould,
Hold on – who am I?
Without wanting to wander into the hazy dazed realms of nostalgia,
I remember, I was someone else once.
Formation – anaesthetising the self out of me.
If I keep doing these things, your rituals,
If I stick to the prescription – ‘take twice a day before meals’
I’ll be formed.
Forged in the fire of the machine.
The machine fed on the same fuel as centuries ago;
Now I’m not saying there are no edges to be knocked off of me,
On the contrary,
I am a multi-faceted collection of rough edges.
I am too much
Too limited in knowledge
Too quick to judge
Too cruel to be kind
But maybe just one of these edges might cut through the shit
The same old that holds up the barriers
That stops people in their tracks
That acts like it holds all the answers
That controls power with white knuckles clenched
I don’t fit in
I can’t fit in
I won’t fit in.