This is Part I of a two-part poem. At some point, we each fall in love with a person, or a place, or both. Songs remembered, faces forever ours, and stolen kisses also fall into this territory.
Whether young or old, when we reach a place in time where we’ve passed through and ended something or someone dear and important to us, we have also built up powerful emotional memories that likely link not only to a person, but to a particular geographic place, be that a house, a street, a city, or a country.
The Half Light of England – I
Sea winds sweep up the sands – crests like white ash
buffet blemished houses all down the row
wet from last night’s rain-sodden clouds
that shutter sea light and cripple the sun
I remember you in the half light of England
stance like a sentinel before windblown to sea
beyond this great water to far western debris
You wash up like jetsam on the shores of my heart
More featherless clouds bump each other in landfall
Gulls hover offshore where the flotsam colors green
as the evening fog staggers over the hills
the thing that crushes chained lurching across the crown
In the morning, just the same, recurring flashbacks
the down-sloping eaves drip-drop on the pavement stones
Inside, tea, apple jam, and toast in a rack
Staring out rain-patched window, curtains drawn low
Dull-shining roadway dirt-spattered with leaves
Motors hiss by – heavy-lidded headlamps yawn
Suspended dim lights in the baker’s window
and the green grocer’s wares shelved gray in the dawn
Background
This first part of the poem, “Half Light of England (Part II appears next week), creates the atmosphere of a place. Think about the feelings that the images arouse in you. Then compare them to a place you feel strongly about. Your feelings will probably vary from the ones in the poem, yet perhaps the poem’s tone can be a platform to jump off into your own memories.
As for me, I have lived many places, known many people, had my share of intimate relationships, and moved more times than I care to remember. Yet something peculiar has stayed with me from my times in England. First of all, the land and its history are ancient as civilizations go. For such a small island nation, it once had an empire on which “the sun never set.” Another peculiarity about England resides in its people’s national pride and respect for tradition. No doubt, these are kept sacred in elders while younger folk experience the homogenizing effect of social media and the declining meaning of nation states.
Something must be said for a country that not only still has a queen, but respects her and the royal family as well. Then there’s the churchyards with incredibly old dates on the tombstones, medieval cathedrals that are marvels of architecture before America was a glimmer of a nation. Although we share the English language, just about everything else feels different; however, with globalization, that, too, may change.
I’ve tried to create the atmosphere of the England I cherish and remember so well, though my memories may now be dated. Those of you who have visited there more recently should feel free to update me on the state of things.
Exploration #1: What can be learned about the person in the doorway from the phrase, “stance like a sentinel”?
Exploration #2: The nouns “jetsam” and “flotsam” appear in the poem. Is this significant? Do these have more than one meaning?
Exploration #3: How many references and words can you find that give the feeling of “England.”
Your Monday Poet, Jack Pine Savage
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