from Contradictions: Tracking Poems

Gwen Raverat

from Contradictions: Tracking Poems

1.

Look:        this is January      the worst onslaught
is ahead of us         Don't be lured
by these soft grey afternoons      these sunsets cut
from pink and violet tissue-paper      by the thought
the days are lengthening
Don't let the solstice fool you;
our lives will always be
a stew of contradictions
the worst moments of winter can come in April
when the peepers are stubbornly still      and our bodies
plod on without conviction
and our thoughts cramp down before the sheer
arsenal of everything that tries us:
this battering, blunt-edged life.


18.
The problem, unstated till now, is how
to live in a damaged body
in a world where pain is meant to be gagged
uncured      un-grieved over      The problem is
to connect, without hysteria, the pain
of any one's body with the pain of the body's world
For it is the body's world
filled with creatures      filled with dread
mishapen so      yet the best we have
our raft among the abstract worlds
and how I long to live on this earth
walking her boundaries      never counting the cost


Adrienne Rich

 

"This battering, blunt-edged life."

That phrase certainly feels true today.

And how do I live it? How reconcile my struggle and the struggle of others, how "connect" even to broken things and selves?

And that last line --

"Never counting the cost"

That's what I really want.

To live full-out, in spite of all the beat-downs.

 

 

The Debtor

Mark Powell

The Debtor

I am debtor to all, to all am I bounden,
Fellowman and beast, season and solstice, darkness and light,
And life and death. On the backs of the dead,
See, I am borne, on lost errands led,
By spent harvests nourished. Forgotten prayers
To gods forgotten bring blessings upon me.
Rusted arrow and broken bow, look, they preserve me
Here in this place. The never-won stronghold
That sank in the ground as the years into time,
Slowly with all its men steadfast and watching,
Keeps me safe now. The ancient waters
Cleanse me, revive me. Victor and vanquished
Give me their passion, their peace and the field.
The meadows of Lethe shed twilight around me.
The dead in their silences keep me in memory,
Have me in hold. To all I am bounden.


Edwin Muir

Reading Eliot's "Little Gidding"  in the last post, brought "The Debtor" to mind. Where Eliot says "we are born with the dead", Muir says, "On the backs of the dead, see I am borne." Born and borne. Interesting. (And the word "borne" too, has two sides - carried, or bearing something.) Yes, the dead and their discoveries, their accomplishments, lift us up, elevate our life experience. But we also bear the consequences of their mistakes. It's a mixed bag. The speaker seems encouraged and strengthened by the harvests and prayers of the past, but he is nonetheless "held". That word calls up other words - "captive, "constrained". The way he writes, "The meadows of Lethe shed twilight around me. The dead in their silences keep me in memory.", seems to describe someone under a spell. Are we under a spell? Are we lifted up by those who have gone before, or held down? Or both? Is it a debt or an inheritance? Whichever, the poem feels of a quest, a journey - a battle, "Rusted arrow and broken bow, look, they preserve me..."  That sense of testing and being tried, of being half enchanted and half awake, of voices and people from many places and times speaking to us and lending their strength appeals to me. The (past) dead carry us, the present moment engages us, and the future draws us. Maybe "bounden" also means "committed", or "resolved". Perhaps the speaker has come awake, weighed his situation in life, and turned toward it, taking it up, intending to see it through. To see where the story goes.