Eli, Eli

To see them go by drowning in the river –
soldiers and elders drowning in the river,
the pitiful women drowning in the river,
the children’s faces staring from the river –
that was his cross, and not the cross they gave him.

To hold the invisible wand, and not to save them –
to know them turned to death, and not to save them;
only to cry to them and not to save them
knowing that no one but themselves could save them –
this was the wound, more than the wound they dealt him.

To hold out love and know they would not take it,
to hold out faith and know they dared not take it –
the invisible wand, and none would see or take it –
all he could give, and there was none to take it –
thus they betrayed him not with the tongue’s betrayal.

He watched, and they were drowning in the river;
faces like sodden flowers in the river
faces of children moving in the river;
and all the while he knew there was no river.

Judith Wright (from the ‘Woman to Man’ sequence 1949)

The title Eli, Eli (Eloi, Eloi) … suggests those words spoken on the cross by Christ – ‘… why have you forsaken me’

Looking at the poem stanza by stanza …

S1 … it seems that everyone is drowning in the river … interesting that the children aren’t drowning, they are caught up in the river though, but they are not drowning, they are staring – watching what is going on in a fixed state

… the last line defines the ‘cross’ given to Christ in terms of this scene … to watch the world drowning (or staring) in the river … and this is not the cross given to him (the crucifixion cross) … but it is not until later that this is clarified

S2 … Christ had (has) the ‘invisible wand’ the ability to intervene … note that it is an invisible power … but JC can only cry … he does not save them – a contrast with the view of Christ=Saviour … the key is in the fourth line – it is up to the each person to save themselves the pain is that JC must watch when he knows they have the ability to be saved … and the last line suggests that this pain is greater than the physical pain

S3 … the details of the ‘invisible wand’ are stated in terms of the gifts of love and faith … but these have been ignored … the message of Christ has not been heard … all that he had to give … the people not hearing – not taking up the power of the wand … in doing this they have betrayed him far more than a lip-betrayal.

S4 … so JC is watching the drowning in the river … interesting that the children are not drowning but moving in the river … then we have that powerful last line … there is no river … the river is a creation of humanity = all those things that stop us truly living

…and the children moving in the environment of the negative adult world – ( … unless you become like little children comes to mind … age corrupts perhaps).

This poem gives a new dimension on that final crucifixion scene. Christ looking out on the crowd. Christ in pain because his message is not headed. Christ recognizing children … and we like sodden flowers.

In summary – a very spiritual poem with great understanding on how Christ works. One of JW’s excellent early poems.

Footnote …

Matthew 27:45
“Eli, Eli lema sabatchthani?” – “My God, My God, why did you abandon me?”

Looking at the traditional Japanese structures of Haiku and Tanka … Haiku is simply three lines with the first and last line five syllables and the middle line seven … Tanka is an extension of Haiku by adding two extra seven syllable lines …

Here is an example by Doris Heitmeyer … a contemporary poet who I think is (or has been) the secretary of the American Haiku Society.

On the morning bus

I look past the handsome face

to the red maple.

When did it happen – the change

in the leaves, the change in me? 

Doris Heitmeyer, New York

The first sentence is a Haiku statement of a person (the poet) travelling on a bus … the morning bus implies that she is a regular bus traveler, perhaps on the way to work or shopping … she looks past another traveler … past a handsome face … it is up to the reader to fill in any personal details like age, sex … and where positioned on the bus … but she looks past this person to an outside view via the window … the important detail is the face … maybe she has been studying this face … and she sees the red maple … so we know it is autumn. The red maple is quite a stunning autumn tree so the maple and the face have common prominence in the eye of the traveler. If the poem ended here with just these lines it would be no more than a simple factual statement on a moment of travel on a bus.

But this moment of everyday travel has stimulated a personal reflection defined by the extension of the last two lines to form the Tanka. The important word is ‘change’ a personal change … the metaphor change in the leaves … relating to the direct reference by last three words … ‘change in me’. So there is a question to be contemplated … it is up to the reader to contemplate on the thoughts suggested … for example …

Has there been an age change … a physical change in the face of the person … or is the change an internal change within … is the change for better or for worse … how dramatic is the change … is it inevitable as with a changing season … or is this change in relation to many years …

… and of course the reader will start to think of how she or he has changed in any dramatic way.

The reader’s understanding/interpretation is dictated by personal experience and the unique personal association prompted by the words presented by the poet …

I think there is quite a contrast with such short Haiku and Tanka text compared with other forms of poetic expression … for few words are read – but much thought and contemplation is needed to appreciate the text … for those that like to dwell and mull.

The Guttural Muse

Late summer, and at midnight
I smelt the heat of the day:
At my window over the hotel car park
I breathed the muddied night airs off the lake
And watched a young crowd leave the discotheque.

Their voices rose up thick and comforting
As oily bubbles the feeding tench sent up
That evening at dusk – the slimy tench
Once called the ‘doctor fish’ because his slime
Was said to heal the wounds of fish that touched it.

A girl in a white dress
Was being courted out among the cars:
As her voice swarmed and puddled into laughs
I felt like some old pike all badged with sores
Wanting to swim in touch with soft-mouthed life.

Seamus Heaney

This poem was originally published in the June 25, 1979 issue of The New Yorker. It was reprinted in the September 9, 2013 issue just after Heaney’s death on August 30.

Guttural – deep throated sound with the connotation of coming from the gut
Muse – inspirational motivation voice from within that excites the senses for response

S1 – I think his room is high up … that the window is open … that in the evening he has been walking near the lake … it has been a hot day (late August is my guess as to the time of year) … overlooking the car-park gives the sense that it is not a great room

‘the muddied night air’ … this may say something of where he is personally … he is disturbed and can’t sleep … and takes interest in the young crowd leaving the disco … he becomes distracted

S2 – you now have the sense that he is alone … that the voices comfort … ‘thick’ linking with guttural. These voices are perhaps bubbles of oxygen to him … and he knows the story of the tench … a fish associated with the healing other fish … does he need to be healed … perhaps healing already started by the connection with the group of young people

S3 – ‘a girl in a white dress’ … white is essential to contrast with his dark mood … and a girl … the male to female fit … her voice ‘swarmed and puddled into laughs’ – well he has been stung and puddled again links with guttural … as well as being a little playful as puddles are with children … especially as laughter flows …

‘old pike badged with sores’ … he now tells of age and of having survived as a fish … but fish-life has given many sores … he wears his experiences in life in his body

All he wants … ‘to swim in touch with soft-mouthed life’ … to be healed of his ache to be young again … to be inspired … the guttural sounds are soft to him … and all he wants is a touch … to be connected … or is it re-connected with his youth

I am reminded of a Phillip Larkin poem.

To Keep a True Lent

Is this a fast, to keep
The larder lean?
And clean
From fat of veals and sheep ?

Is it to quit the dish
Of flesh, yet still
To fill
The platter high with fish ?

Is it to fast an hour,
Or ragg’d to go,
Or show
A downcast look and sour ?

No ;  ‘tis a fast to dole
Thy sheaf of wheat,
And meat,
Unto the hungry soul.

It is to fast from strife,
From old debate
And hate ;
To circumcise thy life.

To show a heart grief-rent ;
To starve thy sin,
Not bin ;
And that’s to keep thy Lent.

Robert Herrick 1648

Well we are in Lent … and how many of us are refraining from a usual activity of some sort … my guess is not many. Above is a clear message in carefully chosen rhyming words to not ‘close down’ and make a mournful show but to open up and give heartily … ‘a fast to dole / thy sheaf of wheat and meat / unto the hungry soul’ … and your soul as well as other souls perhaps.

So the question is what should/(or can) you do to nourish your soul?

The suggestion is to go to the heart of the matter and … ‘to starve thy sin / not bin.‘ … I really like the nice play of simple easily digested words in this poem … and I think I would not be too far wrong if I said that most people think of Lent as a period of denial in some area of food or drink.

Another interesting thought is on old debates that are passed their use-by-date … in the poem – whether or not to circumcise – so another question … the extent that we are harbouring dead issues (I nearly said tissues).

Musee de Beaux Arts

About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters; how well, they understood
Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
For the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer’s horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
In Breughel’s Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.

W H Auden (1907 – 1973)

In this poem Auden considers suffering … it is brought to our attention in the very first line … and of course the poem is written in relation to Breughel’s Icarus painting where life goes on all around the dramatic event of Icarus falling to earth. Well life does go on for those that are not suffering … however the suffering of others does impinge on our live in some way … especially as nowadays the events of the world are so easily brought to the attention of the wide-world. I guess it is easy to get depressed with what is occurring in other parts of the world … especially so if we have some personal connection to that part of the world. So what should be our response? and how do such events effect our everyday life? These are the questions that came to my mind when reading this poem.

It would be nice to be ignorant of all the problems in the world … ‘the torturer’s horse scratches its innocent behind on a tree’ … and children go on playing while grown-ups perhaps grown too much with worldly affairs. I think this poem says something about living life at the micro level … about concentrating on where we are and what we are doing.

… and perhaps it is all a question of balance and for all the worries in the world there are far more wonderful things happening in the everyday movement of ordinary life. So for those that can sail calmly on enjoy the day!

To hear W. H. Auden read this poem go the following YouTube link … and at 44 mins 11 seconds you will here the words …

A documentary by BBC 4 on Auden and Love Poetry … http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gvezOvM_VgQ

Of Language

I

How now, Horatius! Hath language hours?
Sleeps it awhile to wake again renewed,
As chrysalids pupate the many-hued?
Or aging, man-like, hath it mellowed powers?
Sometimes (I dream) language, like Time, devours
The end that earliest it urgent wooed,
Changing its dandling to still stranger brood
As flowers will change to seed, and seed to flowers!
And this crude speech of ours we use today,
Crude as new must, Time-ripened may seem fine
As anything we heard great Sydney say,
Or Shakespeare plunder from the muses Nine;
While future times may, even here, unpack
All that these few poor words, so halting lack!

II

Flower turns to seed, and seed returns – a flower
One seed makes many flowers, one flower much seed.
Thus from a word shall mighty thinking breed,
And single thoughts to words increase the dower.
Are not all words old thought new-set to power,
Late-visible where we, late-come, may read,
Losing in them the habit of the weed,
And climbing where, unlearned, we still must cower?

Speak not of history in stone! For I
Can show you history written deeper yet –
The simple words nor youth nor age forget
Passed lip to lip as centuries went by;
The caravans of years these leave behind,
Shards for which man made ladders for the mind.

Mary Gilmore 1919

Well what is the nature of language? How does it vary with time and interpretation over time. These two sonnets by Mary Gilmore explore these questions. Much thought has been given to the nature of language as well as adherence to sonnet structure.

Looking at the first line – ‘Hath language hours’ … well ‘hath’ is not a word used nowadays but quite common years ago – so here we see a word that has changed in usage over time so in this sense language has hours. Definition (or understanding) may have hours too … for example the common association and meaning of word ‘gay’. But will words (or text) have a deeper or new understanding that future generations might unravel, for example an insight laying latent for many years. I think more the case that new generations will extend or use the words of the past in new creations of their own.

Of course context at the time of writing is highly in the mind of the reader who lives in that time. For future generations may not understand the relevance or appreciate any sting that might have been in the words at the time of writing. But I do like the notion of words as seeds.

Seeds lie in the ground and they are dead until they germinate. Words only come alive when they are read or heard by a person. The understanding, interpretation and associative images and thoughts conveyed by words is in many ways a highly personal and unique experience. I may mention a ‘wheel barrow’ – you may see a red one straight away for what ever reason – so the ‘flowers’ that are generated may be many types – not too mention any vegetables suddenly appearing out of the ground because of strong personal association.

From a word mighty things may breed. Well all words are the product of thought – we think before we speak or write. I think this is the case even for spontaneous output – what do you think? … it doesn’t have to be true of course … that’s another issue. So all words are reflective, history … the product of old-thought … and as Mary Gilmore says, – ‘are not all words old thought new-set to power’.

Of course it could be argued that poetry is often the product of much thought but whether that makes the words more or less powerful in the mind of the reader is of course debatable (I nearly said food for thought).

… and I do like the last lines … history is not cold stone … history is living a history linked by the words expressed from generation to generation … history is attached to every word as death is attached to life.

For those reading this from Oz have a look at a $10 note and you will see Mary Gilmore.

Words

Axes
After whose stroke the wood rings,
And the echoes!
Echoes traveling
Off from the center like horses.

The sap
Wells like tears, like the
Water striving
To re-establish its mirror
Over the rock

That drops and turns,
A white skull,
Eaten by weedy greens.
Years later I
Encounter them on the road—-

Words dry and riderless,
The indefatigable hoof-taps.
While
From the bottom of the pool, fixed stars
Govern a life.

Sylvia Plath (written in the same month that she died – February 1963)

S1 – Well axes are sharp and cutting their purpose to bite into wood. Words when released for consumption can be sharp and cutting – very true for SP as I think TH would surely agree! They can move from the centre of the person especially if they have been well thought out … and like horses travel … to whom they go is another matter … and what they mean as they are met by travellers who take any notice is again another matter entirely, but once released they can travel far and forever perhaps … SP’s words are at this very moment reaching the minds of many.

S2 – SP’s words were always part of her very being … the sap in the wood … and when released it is impossible for her to recover completely perhaps … or at least settle back to where she was before … you could say it was as though each of her poems was her own baby – I can accept a certain poetic life to this view … however, in this poem we have the intensity of the release of her words in terms of tears and sap, the essence of wood is sap … tears flow from her passion and of course from the head (link to skull) … and we know she put her very soul into much of her writing … and indeed her writing was at times a desperate cry for help given her mental instability.

S3 – words come from the head and thought … and years later this will be the fate of the body … an empty skull … empty after the initial disclosure … and many years later SP perhaps looks back, reflects on what she once wrote … dry and riderless … they are beyond her control and they never have the intensity that they had when first written … I guess the same for everyone who writes from the heart.

S4 … they are indefatigable … never tiring they will travel forever … and in line with horses in the first stanza they are as hoof-taps that will never lose their sound. They come from the rock the solid bottom of the pool … in line with stanza 2 … SP the rock and a rock that is governed by the stars – a distinct spiritual dimension to her life … governed by something outside herself … something fixed and external as the stars above the universe.