Farewell to you and the Youth I have spent with you...

“If in the twilight of memory we should meet once more, we shall speak again together and you shall sing to me a deeper song.
And if our hands should meet in another dream, we shall build another tower in the sky.”

~ from The Prophet, Khalil Gibran

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

~Nothing Gold Can Stay, Robert Frost

[Sonnets are full of love, and this my tome]

Sonnets are full of love, and this my tome
Has many sonnets: so here now shall be
One sonnet more, a love sonnet, from me
To her whose heart is my heart’s quiet home,
To my first Love, my Mother, on whose knee
I learnt love-lore that is not troublesome;
Whose service is my special dignity,
And she my loadstar while I go and come
And so because you love me, and because
I love you, Mother, I have woven a wreath
Of rhymes wherewith to crown your honored name:
In you not fourscore years can dim the flame
Of love, whose blessed glow transcends the laws
Of time and change and mortal life and death.

~Christina Rossetti, 1830-1894

Happy Mother's Day to my first love!  I love you, Gru!!!

The Young May Moon

The young May moon is beaming, love,

The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love;
        How sweet to rove
        Through Morna's grove,
When the drowsy world is dreaming, love!
Then awake!—the heavens look bright, my dear,
'Tis never too late for delight, my dear;
        And the best of all ways
        To lengthen our days
Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear!

Now all the world is sleeping, love,
But the Sage, his star-watch keeping, love,
        And I, whose star
        More glorious far
Is the eye from that casement peeping, love.
Then awake!—till rise of sun, my dear,
The Sage's glass we'll shun, my dear,
        Or in watching the flight
        Of bodies of light
He might happen to take thee for one, my dear!

~The Young May Moon, Thomas Moore, 1779-1852, Irish poet and hymnist

The full moon this month (May 14) is known at the Full Flower Moon, also as the Mother's Moon, the Milk Moon, and the Corn Planting Moon.  The first quarter is on May 6th and the last quarter will be May 21st.

Image scanned by Simon Cooke found on the Victorian Web here

Begin Afresh, Afresh, Afresh

The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.

Is it that they are born again
And we grow old? No, they die too,
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain.

Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In fullgrown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh."

- Philip Larkin, The Trees

This is Just to Say

I have eaten 

the plums 

that were in

the icebox

and which

you were probably

saving for 

breakfast

 

Forgive me

they were delicious

so sweet

and so cold

~William Carlos Williams, This Is Just To Say, 1962

   Earlier this year I started reading a book on apologizing.  The Five Languages of Apology was written by the same guy (Gary Chapman, with Jennifer Thomas) that wrote The Five Love Languages.  In his intro he proposes that many marriages could have been saved if the partners had learned how to apologize to one another.  It seems to be a common problem that even though the offending partner apologizes, the other partner is unable to hear and therefore accept it.  Chapman suggests couples need to learn to apologize to each other in the other person's language of apology.

   I've had a window open on my desktop for about three weeks now.  It's a blog entry that a school teacher wrote about teaching children how to apologize.  In it she suggests that hardly anyone is teaching children the correct way to say they're sorry.  A parent or teacher will say, "Say sorry to your brother," to which the child replies, "Sorry," and that's it.  It reminds me of another saying I heard as a child, "Well, sorry doesn't fix it."  Which is true.  Sorry doesn't fix it.  The blogger writes,

...inside, however... the offended still feels bitter, because the apology was not sincere. And while it may seem like the offender got off easy– not even having to show proper remorse or use a sincere tone–he is actually the one who loses out the most. He not only learns a poor lesson that he can get away with lies and empty words, but does not have the opportunity to experience true reconciliation and restoration of relationships.

   When I read her article, I knew immediately that I wanted to write about it for my own blog.  After all, I've been on the receiving end of these sorry sorrys, and I did still feel bitter because the apology wasn't sincere.  And in fairness, I'm sure my sorrys have been lackluster at times as well.  I'm sure we would all do well to brush up on our ability to say we've done something wrong.  And who knows, maybe it'll save a few relationships as well.

   Here then are her tips on a better way to say you're sorry (I've taken these from her blog and I recommend you surf over there to read her whole article):

1) I’m sorry for…: Be specific. Show the person you’re apologizing to that you really understand what they are upset about. 

       Wrong: I’m sorry for being mean.       Right: I’m sorry for saying that nobody wants to be your friend.

2) This is wrong because…: This might take some more thinking, but this is one of the most important parts. Until you understand why it was wrong or how it hurt someone’s feelings, it’s unlikely you will change. This is also important to show the person you hurt that you really understand how they feel. I can’t tell you how much of a difference this makes! Sometimes, people want to feel understood more than they want an apology. Sometimes just showing understanding– even without an apology– is enough to make them feel better!

       Wrong: This is wrong because I got in trouble.
       Right: This is wrong because it hurt your feelings and made you feel bad about yourself.

3) In the future, I will…: Use positive language, and tell me what you WILL do, not what you won’t do. 

       Wrong: In the future, I will not say that.
       Right: In the future, I will keep unkind words in my head.

Now let’s practice using positive language. It’s hard at first, but you’ll get better. Can anyone think of a positive way to change these incorrect statements? 

       Wrong: In the future, I won’t cut.
       (Right: In the future, I will go to the back of the line.)

       Wrong: In the future, I won’t push.
       (Right: In the future, I will keep my hands to myself.) 

       Wrong: In the future, I won’t take your eraser.
       (Right: In the future, I will ask you if I can borrow your eraser.) 

4) Will you forgive me? This is important to try to restore your friendship. Now, there is no rule that the other person has to forgive you. Sometimes, they won’t. That’s their decision. Hopefully, you will all try to be the kind of friends who will forgive easily, but that’s not something you automatically get just because you apologized. But you should at least ask for it.

So, let's see...

Dear Wife,

I'm sorry
for eating
the plums
in the icebox

that you were
probably most definitely
saving
for breakfast

This is wrong
it was inconsiderate of me
to eat them
without asking you first

In the future
I will ask
before I eat
Will you forgive me

Hummingbird

Suppose I say summer,
write the word 'hummingbird,'
put it in an envelope,
take it down the hill
to the box. When you open
my letter you will recall
those days and how much,
just how much, I love you.

~Raymond Carver, Hummingbird

You Say, "I Will Come"

You say, "I will come."
And you do not come.
Now you say, "I will not come."
So I shall expect you.
Have I learned to understand you?

~Lady Otomo No Sakanoe.  Translated from the Japanese by Kenneth Rexroth

Infidelity

“Talking only makes me feel more alone,”
you said once in the car outside the clinic.
Two years later, you spoke the same sentence
word for word one night after friends had gone.
Within a month, you’d erased yourself    . . .
Erased? “To absent oneself,” I found scribbled on
a wrapper a year later    . . .

Now sunlight and tree
shadow rush over the windshield of  the car:
I’m talking with my new wife — then gone, absented.
“Sometimes I feel almost too much joy,”
you wrote from the balcony of  your cheap
hotel in Paris. “What are you thinking?” she asks.
Light shutters across us. Wherever you are
in me I’m there, though it’s not what you wanted.

~Infidelity, Philip White

Binds to Himself a Joy

He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy
He who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity's sunrise.

~Eternity, William Blake

As Plain As I Beheld It Then

I posted this poem last Christmas, but I like it very much, so I'm reposting it again this year:

“It’s queer,” she said; “I see the light

As plain as I beheld it then,
All silver-like and calm and bright-
We’ve not had stars like that again!

“And she was such a gentle thing
To birth a baby in the cold.
The barn was dark and frightening-
This new one’s better than the old.

“I mind my eyes were full of tears,
For I was young, and quick distressed,
But she was less than me in years
That held a son against her breast.

“I never saw a sweeter child-
The little one, the darling one!-
I mind I told her, when he smiled
You’d know he was his mother’s son.

“It’s queer that I should see them so-
The time they came to Bethlehem
Was more than thirty years ago;
I’ve prayed that all is well with them.”

~Dorothy Parker, The Maid-Servant at the Inn

I hope you've had a wonderful Christmas.  I had hoped to write some of my thoughts, but I'm tired and ready for bed.  I do hope your holidays have been special, and I hope you've had time to stop and reflect on Jesus, whose birthday we celebrate today.

M E R R Y  C H R I S T M A S !

Timeless Advice from a Mother to a Father

Immer bist du doch, Vater, so ungerecht gegen den Sohn! und so wird am wenigsten dir dein Wunsch des Guten erfüllet.  Denn wir können die Kinder nach unserem Sinne nicht formen; So wie Gott sie uns gab, so muß man sie haben und lieben, Sie erziehen aufs beste und jeglichen lassen gewähren.  Denn der eine hat die, die anderen andere Gaben; Jeder braucht sie, und jeder ist doch nur auf eigene Wesie Gut und glücklich.

Why will you always, father, do our son such injustice?  That least of all is the way to bring your wish to fulfillment.  We have no power to fashion our children as it suits our will; As they are given by God, so we must have them and love them; teach them as best we can, and let each of them follow his nature.  One will have talents of one sort, and different talents another.  Every one uses his own; in his own individual fashion, each must be happy and good.

~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, parental advice from Goethe's epic poem, Hermann and Dorothea

As Imperceptibly as Grief

As imperceptibly as Grief
The Summer lapsed away—
Too imperceptible at last
To seem like Perfidy—
A Quietness distilled
As Twilight long begun,
Or Nature spending with herself
Sequestered Afternoon—
The Dusk drew earlier in—
The Morning foreign shone—
A courteous, yet harrowing Grace,
As Guest, that would be gone—
And thus, without a Wing
Or service of a Keel
Our Summer made her light escape
Into the Beautiful.
~Emily Dickinson, As Imperceptibly as Grief

Lamentations

Das Glück ist eine leichte Dirne,
Und weilt nicht gern am selben Ort,
Sie Streicht das Haar dir von der Stirne
Und küßt dich rasch und flattert fort.

Frau Unglück hat im Gegenteile
Dich liebefest and Herz gedrückt;
Sie sagt, sie habe keine Eile,
Setzt sich zu dir ans Bett und strickt.

Happiness is a giddy girl
And always disinclined to stay;
She pats your head, gives you a whirl,
Kisses you quick, and flits away.

But Lady Sorrow now! Don't worry,
She's just the very opposite:
She holds you fast-- she's in no hurry--
She sits down by your bed to knit.

~Lamentationen (Lamentations from Romanzero, Book 2, Lamentations), Heinrich Heine

I'm currently reading Ernst Pawel's The Poet Dying about the great German poet Heinrich Heine's last years of life as an exile in Paris.  The poor man suffered from an agonizing illness which left him in a state of almost total paralysis and blindness and kept him confined to his "mattress tomb."  Amazingly, he remained prolific during this time, and produced really beautiful work.

And a note on translation-- after studying German at Middlebury College last summer, I'm mostly able to read the poem in its original form.  I find it interesting to see what words the translator uses, and how different in some ways the original is from the English.  I guess it's something I'd never thought about before and being able to read both versions gives me a new appreciation for the artform of translation.

Lastly, I like Heine's image of Lady Sorrow sitting by the bed to knit.  The poem paints a sad picture, but I think it also offers a glimpse of Heine's wit and humor which helped carry him along through his long illness.

Acquainted with the Night

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain-- and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-by;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right,
I have been one acquainted with the night.

~Robert Frost, Acquainted with the Night

Upon the Wings of Song

Auf Flügeln des Gesanges,

Herzliebchen, trag ich dich fort,
Fort nach den Fluren des Ganges,
Dort weiß ich den schönsten Ort;

Dort liegt ein rotblühender Garten
Im stillen Mondenschein,
Die Lotosblumen erwarten
Ihr trautes Schwesterlein.

Die Veilchen kichern und kosen,
Und schaun nach den Sternen empor,
Heimlich erzählen die Rosen
Sich duftende Märchen ins Ohr.

Es hüpfen herbei und lauschen
Die frommen, klugen Gazelln,
Und in der Ferne rauschen
Des [heiligen]2 Stromes Well'n.

Dort wollen wir niedersinken
Unter dem Palmenbaum,
Und Liebe und Ruhe trinken,
Und träumen seligen Traum.

On wings of song,
my love, I'll carry you away
to the fields of the Ganges
Where I know the most beautiful place.

There lies a red-flowering garden,
in the serene moonlight,
the lotus-flowers await
Their beloved sister.

The violets giggle and cherish,
and look up at the stars,
The roses tell each other secretly
Their fragant fairy-tales.

The gentle, bright gazelles,
pass and listen;
and in the distance murmurs
The waves of the holy stream.

There we will lay down,
under the palm-tree,
and drink of love and peacefulnes
And dream our blessed dream.
~Auf Flügeln des Gesanges (On Wings of Song), Heinrich Heine (1797-1856)
I particularly like the line about the violets giggling.  

Each Day You Mean One More

What can they do
to you? Whatever they want.
They can set you up, they can
bust you, they can break
your fingers, they can
burn your brain with electricity,
blur you with drugs till you
can't walk, can't remember, they can
take your child, wall up
your lover.  They can do anything
you can't blame them 
from doing.  How can you stop
them?  Alone, you can fight,
you can refuse, you can
take what revenge you can
but they roll over you.


But two people fighting
back to back can cut through
a mob, a snake-dancing file
can break a cordon, and army
can meet an army.


Two people can keep each other
sane, can give support, conviction,
love, massage, hope, sex.
Three people are a delegation,
a committee, a wedge.  With four
you can play bridge and start
an organization.  With six
you can rent a whole house,
eat pie for dinner with no 
seconds, and hold a fund raising party.
A dozen make a demonstration.
A hundred fill a hall.
A thousand have solidarity and your own newsletter
ten thousand, power and your own paper
a hundred thousand, your own media
ten million, your own country.


It goes on one at a time,
It starts when you care
to act, it starts when you do
it again after they said no,
it starts when you say We
and know who you mean, and each
day you mean one more.

~Marge Piercy, The Low Road


I just came home from my local polling place having voted for the Republican candidate for President of the United States.  As I waited for the red light to change, a car pulled past me in the other lane, and I noticed with a smile that the car had a Ron Paul bumpersticker on it.  The driver had obviously noticed the matching sticker on my Subaru and our eyes met in the reflection of his rearview mirror and he flashed me a peace sign.  It was a moment where one feels the flash of humanity-- we were friends even though we had never met.  It's a powerful feeling to look another human being in the eye and to know you've met an ally.


One cold morning last January, I looked out my window to see a world blanketed in snow.  I rubbed my blurry eyes with my hands and peered between the blinds again.  That morning I had volunteered to petition for signatures to get Ron Paul's name on the ballot here in Delaware.  It was to be my first foray into that campaign world, and I had no idea of what to expect.  The little voice that lies dormant through the week but looks upon lazy Saturday mornings with longing whispered, "You don't have to go.  No one would fault you if you didn't make it out in the snow."  But another voice spoke up with more sternness, "No, you must keep your commitments.  Let your yes be yes and your no be no."


That was how it all began.  I have been blessed beyond measure because I decided to show up that day.  This Saturday I, along with other dear committed souls, will be a delegate to the State Convention.  With any luck we will shape the future.  Along the way I have met so many amazing, passionate people-- dear Eric, Sam and Nicole, Mark, Randy and Taylor, Meredith, Hollie, Tom, the Young Americans for Liberty, and countless others.  It has been a joy to walk beside them.  And so, this is for them.  This is for my friends who are fighting for Liberty.  This is for my friends who are paying attention.  This is for my friends who care to act.  I say "We", and we know who we mean, and each day we mean one more.  Won't you come and join us?

The Dream Digger

Don't you love me, don't you want to look at me?
Oh, how handsome you are, damn you!
And I can no longer fly,
I who was winged from childhood.
A mist clouds my eyes,
Things and faces merge and flow,
And there is only the red tulip,
The tulip in your buttonhole.


~Anna Akhmatova

Song

Pain will cease, do not grieve, do not grieve--
Friends will return, the heart will rest, do not grieve, do not grieve--
The wound will be made whole, do not grieve, do not grieve--
Day will come forth, do not grieve, do not grieve--
The cloud will open, night will decline, do not grieve, do not grieve--
The seasons will change, do not grieve, do not grieve.

~Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Shine, Perishing Republic

While this America settles in the mould of its vulgarity, heavily thickening 
   to empire
And protest, only a bubble in the molten mass, pops and sighs out, and the
   mass hardens,
I sadly smiling remember that the flower fades to make fruit, the fruit rots 
   to make earth.
Out of the mother; and through the spring exultances, ripeness and deca-
   dence; and home to the mother.

You making haste haste on decay: not blameworthy; life is good, be it stub-
   bornly long or suddenly
A mortal splendor: meteors are not needed less than mountains: 
   shine, perishing republic.
But for my children, I would have them keep their distance from the thick-
   ening center; corruption
Never has been compulsory, when the cities lie at the monster's feet there 
   are left the mountains.
And boys, be in nothing so moderate as in love of man, a clever servant, 
   insufferable master.
There is the trap that catches noblest spirits, that caught--they say--
   God, when he walked on earth. 


~Robinson Jeffers, Shine, Perishing Republic, 1925