Happy Poetry Friday! Welcome, everyone! (Wondering what Poetry Friday is? Click here.) And happy Thanksgiving, if you celebrate! Also, I got to see some Poetry Friday regulars at NCTE! Waving at Denise Krebs, Matt Forrest Esenwine, Mary Lee Hahn, and Liz Garton Scanlon–and pry some others, though I’m drawing a blank right now. It was so wonderful to connect in person with members of this community <3
This month, the Poetry Sisters decided to be inspired by Jane Hirshfield’s poem, “Two Versions.” This is one of those poems that feels momentous and weighty, but also ethereal. For me, it’s more clouds than anchors, and I struggled to get a grip on it. But that’s okay. I decided to let these lines inspire my own poem:
“In the second version, there is only their thirst,
of which I knew nothing.”
I’ve been writing poems about our Ireland/Northern Ireland trip, and I’m continuing with that. Learning more about Ireland’s Great Famine (also referred to by one history buff as the Great Hunger, because there was other food available, but poor Irish people with absentee landlords–in England–couldn’t afford to buy it) was gut-wrenching. So I decided to compare our trip, one we were lucky and privileged to take–even on a fairly tight budget, with the epic tragedy of the mid-1800s potato blight. I brainstormed and wrote the first draft of this poem while eating lunch at Taco Bell–the irony.
First, here are a few pics from our trip that show some of the things I reference in the poem.
And now my poem draft. That haunting sculpture is one of a series by Rowan Gillespie. This one’s part of a group of them in downtown Dublin on the banks of the River Liffey.
Be sure to check out my sisters’ poems!
Tricia
Kelly
Click here to see all our previous Poetry Princesses collaborations.
Our Poetry Friday host is poet/author/singer/ponderer Tanita Davis! Be sure to check out the Roundup–and Tanita’s newest novel, The Science of Friendship, which I’m about to start reading!
10 Responses
You captured the contrast between your privileged visit and the horror of history perfectly. I felt the same way walking the Hebridean highlands — a landscape ravaged by wealthy landowners who moved the native people either off the islands or to barely habitable rocky places so that sheep could have the best of it all. I was walking through beauty created by a history of violence. And yet, we were encouraged to meet and support the people who are staying, repairing, and finding sustainable ways to carry on.
“beauty created by a history of violence”–that’s it, exactly. Although, all we ever have is now, and probably all our earth will ever have is a history of violence (sadly). So do we mourn the past or find awe and wonder in the present we encounter. It’s the challenge of living and having any kind of awareness of the past. Sometimes learning more history makes it so much harder to just get lost in the glory of a landscape…sigh.
Holding both versions at once—that’s the poet’s job, isn’t it? And you’ve done it here so powerfully. I ache for what was, and for what is, for different reasons.
No view but escape,
No taste but grief.
The liminal boundaries of history and our current moment never show up more clearly for me than when I’m vacationing and studying an area’s history. This poignantly holds our lives in the tension of “neither one or the other but both…”
Ooh, you’re right that it’s exaggerated while vacationing. Feeling so lucky and carefree, compared to the horrible histories…
What a beautiful poem, Laura.
Powerful lines, Laura “windowless walls” “no view but escape” quite a despairing view you’ve captured, an experiencial poem, and thanks for the pics.
Oh, Laura — you did something so special with this prompt — it is such a beautiful model for how to face and acknowledge history. (And also for how to write DETAILS! Wow…)
I enjoyed seeing your trip pics that you shared on social media, Laura, and now you’ve showed that other learning so powerfully, the contrast of stories. The ending, wow! Sadly, I just read an article from The Guardian that speaks of those suffering all over the world from drought, and the companies that are helping to drain the lands, then selling the water back. Thank you!
I’ve always been struck by the utter horror and tragedy of this period in history, as it didn’t have to happen. You’ve captured those feelings so well. I appreciate the juxtaposition of your two views. This will be a wonderful model for writing historical poems. I hope you don’t mind if I share with my students.