Melancholy’s Voice: A Familiar Timbre
Today, a poem each from two of my favorites, Elizabeth Jennings and Edward Dixon Garner. Since my first encounter with each of these poets, their words have arisen from the page like incense, like the breath of two wistful friends speaking in my ear. On days like today, I seek them out, and they are faithful to me.
~ S.K. Orr
Answers
I kept my answers small and kept them near;
Big questions bruised my mind but still I let
Small answers be a bulwark to my fear.The huge abstractions I kept from the light;
Small things I handled and caressed and loved.
I let the stars assume the whole of night.But the big answers clamoured to be moved
Into my life. Their great audacity
Shouted to be acknowledged and believed.Even when my small answers build up to
Protection of my spirit, still I hear
Big answers striving for their overthrowAnd all the great conclusions coming near.
— Elizabeth Jennings
Springs
Each man must have a spring to quench his thirst,
A spring he knows no drought may ever dry,
To which he may, with fondest dreams dispersed,
Come to, as all things to some bulwark fly.
It must be deep, that it may never fail,
It must be good, for only good is kind,
And near, so that no fainting heart may quail
On routes so long hope might be left behind.Music may be the spring for some, and these
May quaff such draughts as timeless David knew,
While others still may sip the strength of trees,
And find therein an anodyne for rue,
While others yet may reach beyond life’s bars,
And slowly drink the magic of the stars.— Edward Dixon Garner
2 Comments
Genie
I have been going through some real roller coaster emotions after hitting the retirement wall. Here’s the one that speaks to me. By John O’Donohue.
For One Who Is Exhausted: A Blessing
When the rhythm of the heart becomes hectic,
Time takes on the strain until it breaks;
Then all the unattended stress falls in
On the mind like an endless, increasing weight.
The light in the mind becomes dim.
Things you could take in your stride before
Now become laborsome events of will.
Weariness invades your spirit.
Gravity begins falling inside you,
Dragging down every bone.
The tide you never valued has gone out.
And you are marooned on unsure ground.
Something within you has closed down;
And you cannot push yourself back to life.
You have been forced to enter empty time.
The desire that drove you has relinquished.
There is nothing else to do now but rest
And patiently learn to receive the self
You have forsaken in the race of days.
At first your thinking will darken
And sadness take over like listless weather.
The flow of unwept tears will frighten you.
You have traveled too fast over false ground;
Now your soul has come to take you back.
Take refuge in your senses, open up
To all the small miracles you rushed through.
Become inclined to watch the way of rain
When it falls slow and free.
Imitate the habit of twilight,
Taking time to open the well of color
That fostered the brightness of day.
Draw alongside the silence of stone
Until its calmness can claim you.
Be excessively gentle with yourself.
Stay clear of those vexed in spirit.
Learn to linger around someone of ease
Who feels they have all the time in the world.
Gradually, you will return to yourself,
Having learned a new respect for your heart
And the joy that dwells far within slow time.
admin
Thank you so much, Genie. I truly enjoyed that. And thank you for introducing me to Mr. O’Donohue’s work.