Resilience

The Old Stoic – Emily Bronte

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The Old Stoic

Riches I hold in light esteem,
And Love I laugh to scorn;
And lust of fame was but a dream,
That vanished with the morn:

And if I pray, the only prayer
That moves my lips for me
Is, "Leave the heart that now I bear,
And give me liberty!"

Yes, as my swift days near their goal:
'Tis all that I implore;
In life and death a chainless soul,
With courage to endure.

Emily Bronte (1818 - 1848)

Stoic = one who tends to endure the trials and tribulations of life without complaint

When a person reaches the later stages of life there are many challenges in daily life due to age the most common concern health rather than finance – but lack of finance may obviate the ability to deal adequately with any health issues.

However, Emily Bronte never reached old age and died young … but had her miseries nevertheless to endure in that dire home life in Haworth. She may have been writing these words in association with an old gentleman that she knew. Assuming male.

Incidentally, I have just watched the latest ‘Wuthering Heights’ movie. A complete imaginary representation and a lot of violence. Revenge never reached such heights – excuse the pun. And when Catherine married into the Linton family against her heart it reminded me of Thomas Hardy’s poem ‘The Ruined Maid’. If you like Margot Robbie go to see it, she is quite brilliant as Catherine. I would give it a 3.5 rating. I liked the scenery of course especially as I lived in Ikley for a while when attending Uni.

And what is important for this old man …

… not riches … seems he is adequately prepared for his daily needs
… not love … well … laughter and scorn = no respect, mockery … as he reflects back with a smile …
… not fame … this was an unrealised dream … something sought in youth perhaps

… but the most important thing, the one prayer … for courage to endure all that is going on in his life … in life and death … as he reaches final days … as he seeks liberty … freedom from the body …

If those reading this poem who are in a similar state … with arthritis and more serious body concerns and medical issues – never give up take courage and endure, persist, and keep going despite … and find some joy out of the shadow of such concerns.

… And of course the young may need such courage too!

Leda’s Story – Diane Fahey

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Leda’s Story

‘I thought you were one of my kind,’ he said,
then, crestfallen, ‘I thought you’d be thrilled.’
To be fair, it was late, and I was a strange one
for squatting out among rushes waiting
to hear and feel the new tide slapping in
with cool subtle shadings of wind.
It was such a hot night … My white skin
must have flashed under the moon;
he must have seen the wings that, against
all opinion to the contrary, I know lie just
beneath my shoulder blades and, at moments
approaching happiness, edge and widen into air —
I had no need of those wings thrashing above me.
Now a voice from the swan enjoins me to turn
into a myth this sordid disturbance of a dream.
‘Total belief is all I ask,’ he says,
‘or, failing that, the skill to act its presence.’
Gods always ask for your everything, twice.
If I nestle deep down inside the mud, a new self
may hatch and arise, as if from fire …
Or will it be some old self, unreconciled
to these nights of yearning, disquiet:
waiting for an answer that will not raise up
the ghost of some more painful question?

Diane Fahey (1945 –

The above is a poem in response to Greek mythology and the story of ‘Leda and the swan’ where Leda is raped by Zeus who takes the form of a swan.

Unusual to contemplate a non-perfect God … if this is the case some amendment may be necessary in our thinking! … and her words pose a few thoughts …

… did the ‘rapist’ really think that Leda would be thrilled … was there no understanding

… how were the demands for acceptance (or pretence at acceptance) met by Leda …

… will Leda be changed forever (a new self … something hatched … born from fire) …

… and what was the ‘gain’ from the rape … the raising of the ghost … the ambivalence

… did she still have something of herself untouched … a sort of resilience despite the rape

Diane Fahey is an Australian poet. Her main creative concerns are nature writing, Greek myths, visual art, fairy tales and literary mystery novels.

A link to her Website