Body parts visible and invisible
Come and go like clockwork
Silently seek relief
My eyes wander
Linger on each bundle of hope
Dreaming of a better tomorrow –
The way things used to be
Tomorrow morning, Wednesday, I’ll be back in the waiting room Read the rest of this entry »
This poem from Emily Dickinson gnaws at me. Is it a poem of despair or encouragement? And whose voices are these, anyway? My comments follow.
I died for Beauty – but was scarce
Adjusted in the Tomb
When One who died for Truth, was lain
In an adjoining Room –He questioned softly, “Why I failed”?
“For Beauty”, I replied –
“And I – for Truth – Themselves are One –
“We brethren, are”, He said –And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night –
We talked between the Rooms –
Until the Moss had reached our lips –
And covered up – our names –c. 1862
Emily Dickinson Poems, Edited by Brenda Hillman
Shambhala Pocket Classics, Shambhala 1995
“I died for Beauty….” Was this a literal death? No. It seems more like a dream. Emily is dead. Yet she doesn’t dwell on Death. Instead, she begins with that for which she died. Beauty.
Emily is in the Tomb. She didn’t get here on her own. Others laid her here. Adjustments have just been made (theirs of her body? hers to her new reality?), when she notices she has company.
Next to her, in the adjoining Room, she has a new neighbor. She recognizes “the One who died for Truth.” She knows he already died for Truth. How long ago was that? Is she surprised to find this One laid to rest in the Room next to hers? We don’t know.
The One who died for Truth initiates conversation with her. Not in a grand, authoritative voice, but softly. He wants to know why she failed. She says it was for Beauty.
He immediately acknowledges he failed for Truth, and declares the two are One—Beauty and Truth. Which makes them kin, brother and sister. Not enemies or strangers.
What does it mean to fail? Emily’s response seems to rule out her physical health failing and leading to death.
Perhaps this means failure after a long, valiant battle. Hers on behalf of Beauty; his on behalf of Truth. Not necessarily the end of the battle, but the end of what Emily and the One could do in their lifetimes.
Then again, I wonder whether these dead were silenced by the opposition because they didn’t like what they heard and saw in Emily and the One. At the least, perhaps they died of heartbreak or despair due to apathy about Beauty and Truth.
Perhaps. Yet here’s how I imagine it.
Truth and Beauty are One. They aren’t many, and they aren’t at odds with each other. In fact, together they are so powerful that they can’t be silenced, even in these newly occupied Tombs.
And so the quiet, unrecorded conversation between Beauty and Truth goes on until the moss creeps up over the occupants’ Lips and, in a surprise ending, covers up their names, not just their Lips. A sign, perhaps, that Beauty and Truth have a mysterious life of their own.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 15 October 2016
Photo found at poetrygrrrl.com
I love my Physical Therapist! Only six sessions with her so far, two per week, and I already feel the difference. Muscles in my upper back, neck, head and mouth have begun to relax, instead of Read the rest of this entry »
For over two months I’ve listened to and sung along with the old hymn below. I’m a teary person. It doesn’t take much to open the floodgates. Even so, I’m taken aback by how deeply this particular old hymn moves me.
Here are the lyrics. My comments follow.
King of glory, King of peace,
I will love thee;
and, that love may never cease,
I will move thee.
Thou has granted my request,
thou has heard me;
thou didst note my working breast,
thou hast spared me. Read the rest of this entry »
Events I didn’t expect
No end in sight save each passing day
Restless nights invite anxious tears
Looking for something –
A sign that all will be or end well?
The reason I’m still here, not elsewhere?
My mind races Read the rest of this entry »
The Lost Drachma, by James Tissot (French, 1836-1902), Brooklyn Museum
Spiritual formation is an up and down journey for me. An unrecorded map of possibilities, choices, decisions, practices, good intentions, getting lost and forgetfulness.
I’m a fairly organized person, though not allergic to clutter. When it comes to spiritual practices, however, Read the rest of this entry »
~~~Charge of the Light Brigade, painting by Richard Caton Woodville, Jr.
What does it mean to be brave? Emily Dickinson gets right to the heart of things by showing me a different picture of bravery. One with which I can relate, if I’m willing to re-imagine my life. My comments follow her moving poem.
To fight aloud, is very brave –
But gallanter, I know
Who charge within the bosom
The Cavalry of Woe – Read the rest of this entry »
What will I do with the rest of my life?
Weeks ago my pastor preached a sermon on this. The topic was both amusing and serious. Amusing because there isn’t that much left of ‘the rest of my life.’ Read the rest of this entry »
~~~~~Floating blossoms in an urn at Chanticleer Gardens, Sept 2016
After reading my dream, a friend asked this question: “What has already been keeping you afloat?”
I’m not drowning in the dream, though I fear some monster lurking beneath the surface might make a meal of me. Instead, it seems I’ve been floating on the Yangtze River for a while, perhaps more than 70 years. Read the rest of this entry »
For several weeks I’ve been drawn to Emily Dickinson’s poem below. I wonder where it might find you today. My comments and personal reflection follow the poem. Read the rest of this entry »
Telling the Truth 