I saw this poem posted on a private blog tonight. It is exquisite. Ms. Boland is an Irish poet, still alive, still writing. Still capturing truth, as these lines attest.
The picture is from Norway Lake, Minnesota. I took it last summer. I will be there again in less than a month.
by Eavan Boland
How on earth did it happen, I used to wonder
that a whole city—arches, pillars, colonnades,
not to mention vehicles and animals—had all
one fine day gone under?
I mean, I said to myself, the world was small then.
Surely a great city must have been missed?
I miss our old city —
white pepper, white pudding, you and I meeting
under fanlights and low skies to go home in it. Maybe
what really happened is
this: the old fable-makers searched hard for a word
to convey that what is gone is gone forever and
never found it. And so, in the best traditions of
where we come from, they gave their sorrow a name
and drowned it.
4 comments:
Heartbreaking and sad. And a desolate photo. Thanks for sharing.
Is that the slide from the summer cabin? It totally looks like it - which is why I tell Elin she cannot go on the slide at the summer cabin (hello death trap.)
Hello, county-fair-winning photograph. Will you be in MN during their county fair? Because I know that people like to vote for photos from their own locale.
Beautiful, heart-wrenching poem. I love it.
Whoa, powerfully beautiful poem. And your photo is stunningly captive...the reflection/quality of light/colors...wow... you have just begun to scratch the surface of your creative skills.... keep mining!! We are hungry for your way with words...and the art/photos that are waiting to be given life by you.
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