Sunday (Monday) Respite
More Reading as Resistance
Apologies for the day-late/dollar-short appearance of this one. As many of you were likely doing, I spent yesterday in something of a fog of rage and sorrow over what happened in Minnesota: the murder under color of law of Alex Pretti—followed by the even more enraging lies the administration immediately spewed to pretend we hadn’t all seen an extrajudicial murder happen before our eyes.
I deeply believe, though, that it is in exactly such moments that reading can be an essential and significant element of resistance.
I didn’t have the will to read with feeling or with depth this weekend—and the week before it was filled with the usual stuff of ordinary life, so I can’t say the art of words rung its changes in me then, either.
But I found myself today, despite a dive back into the ordinary and unavoidable cruft of the day job, needing some help, some language with which to respond to tragedy.
So I spent an hour with the World War I poets, returning to some old chestnuts, and reading some I hadn’t (or hadn’t remembered) encountering before.
Here’s one that brought me up short. Kinder on the surface than much of the catalogue, but not so much, I find, on rereading. There’s a sting there, and purpose.
Enough prologue. I share with you…
The Dead
These hearts were woven of human joys and cares,
Washed marvellously with sorrow, swift to mirth.
The years had given them kindness. Dawn was theirs,
And sunset, and the colours of the earth.
These had seen movement, and heard music; known
Slumber and waking; loved; gone proudly friended;
Felt the quick stir of wonder; sat alone;
Touched flowers and furs and cheeks. All this is ended.
There are waters blown by changing winds to laughter
And lit by the rich skies, all day. And after,
Frost, with a gesture, stays the waves that dance
And wandering loveliness. He leaves a white
Unbroken glory, a gathered radiance,
A width, a shining peace, under the night.
Take care of yourselves, everyone. And each other.
Image: Berthe Morisot, Reading (portrait of Edma Morisot), 1873
