Regular readers of the Almanac’s Monday poetry posts know that my preference for subjects is “telling it like it is,” and for me that means sometimes looking at the dark side of reality, or at least reality as it actually exists – often, the continuous suffering of various kinds – if nothing else, the inevitable passing away – the angst and anxiety that every human feels to one extent or another.
Readers may also have noticed that for the past two months (at the request of friends and contributors, viz. friendly readers) I’ve been adhering to the old saw, “lighten up.” From hummingbirds to muses, I’ve done my best to entertain with subjects that send readers with a smile, just for respite.
The trouble is, I can’t abide all this light-heartedness as a steady diet. I admit, it is good practice, and technically, it’s a true challenge, and I will continue to include it in my posts; however, I intend to make a mix of it – from the darker realities of life as a sentient being to the joys of living in these wonderful bodies of ours. So, like it or not, here comes another look at reality . . .
Inversion
A woman died one week ago
collaborating with the grave triumph
one vivacious death
pursued her to the brink of radiant darkness
She thrust and parried but despite her effort
the result was inversion over the edge
she, remaining gullible about the power of the harrowing reaper
A man on the ledge peering down at her falling body
a prominence in midair
Her shuttered fortress of no avail
The carnal withering descent
Who can match such a mystery?
The screen black and still
Background:
I am a Buddhist. The first Noble Truth of Buddhism is “Suffering exists.” The Second Noble Truth is “Desire and craving cause suffering.” As true or false as anyone might receive these wisdom statements, one has to admit that no human being, no matter how fortunate, has escaped all suffering. The Buddhist Canon discusses a myriad of types of suffering; the good news is in the Third and Fourth Noble Truths which simply state that there is a way out of suffering, and that way is The Eightfold Path. Going further than this means I’ll start to offer a course on my chosen spiritual path.
Explorations:
Exploration #1: What is your view of reality, as it actually is?
Exploration #2: What is the mystery spoken of in the second last line?
Exploration #3: What is the relationship, if any, between the falling woman and the man peering over the edge?
Your Monday Poet, - Jack Pine Savage
I love the line "the grave triumph." Overall, I enjoy how you twist and bend words into your poems, exacting meaning with that surgeon's precision. Or maybe it's like a mosaic - how you artfully arrange the pieces you have into a new image. In any case, your poems invariably open something in me and/or shift the prism for a glimpse of the world from your vantage point.
ReplyDeleteIn the poem, I understand death to be a going down into black. But what if it goes up into light? I like the contrast of these two possibilities. My view of reality as it actually is? I think my faith pushes me toward the latter.
The man on the brink. At first, I thought he might be "one vivacious death." But, considering what I just wrote above - maybe the man is our faith, our belief, or - to use your term - "the reality, as it actually is" that bears ultimate witness to our final end.
The mystery can be how do we die? The possible answer: it depends on our view of reality as it actually is.
For me, I choose up. And light. Ascension in lieu of inversion.
Hi Kim,
DeleteMany thanks for your feedback. Much appreciated. I always learn from your comments. I think what you are noticing in my “twists and bends” is a feature I strive to instill in my work: a kind of musical rhythm with surprising notes and phrases.
Our world views are so very different – Catholic and Buddhist. Sometimes I wonder that our deep friendship can accommodate this, but obviously it works.
Regarding afterlife being black or light, no one has come back to tell us verifiably what happens, so it is one’s view on reality that gives each of us the beliefs we hold. As far as the man on the edge, I would have to say that although no poetic interpretation is ever wrong, I was not thinking of faith. I do, however, like your courage in taking that route.
It seems to mean that you admirably sum up the whole situation late in your comments: “The mystery can be how do we die? The possible answer: it depends on our view of reality as it actually is.” JP Savage
It seems the everyday presses on me more than the contemplations of death and how it's all going to end. I've been to death's door a few times over my lifetime. Tick, tick, tick.
ReplyDeleteSome eon/ion twist of luck or fate or chance or surgeon's skill stopped my descent--or ascent. I pulled through. When you go under anesthesia, you either wake up or you don't. You start out on a trip in your car and you make it home again alive, sometime you may not. Some days you wake up aching all over and other days you can dance from the house like Steve Martin, all smiles, with arms and legs akimbo.
I'm not the deep thinker Catholic/Buddist/Protestant. I'm lazy that way. My ignorance along these lines is my bliss. It seems that people from all over the world search for 'The Way,' in sort of a pursuit of folly no matter the name they put on it, no matter how they conceive it in flesh or form. To me, it's all the same 'One.'
Before I read your poem, I saw the image of the woman falling. I have a personal connection to a woman falling to her death, so I thought of 'Diana' immediately.
However, Diana wasn't wearing a negligee when she stepped off the ten-story ledge in the atrium of a Holiday Inn hotel and fell into a shallow reflective pool amid the Happy Hour participants sitting at their nearby tables. She was wearing slacks and a nylon jacket. In the jacket pocket was her drivers license with her picture ID. She wanted people to know who she was.
We came to learn she had planned 'her trip' on her wedding day, two years earlier, where I was the Best Man. I recalled she had asked me, "Do you think anyone would survive a fall from this height?" I replied, "I seriously doubt it." She was in her wedding dress. We were on the tenth floor of Embassy Suites. It was a sunny day.
My view of reality, as it actually is. There's a plum of a question. Glad I don't have to say what reality actually is. Maybe reality for me is my view of reality.
ReplyDeleteThat could explain my own suffering, a suffering so mild it could be called happiness. Am I on the right track? Should I become a missionary instead of enjoying this life of abundance? Don't know.
Bingo! We all see reality just as we see it. Our individual sensory arrays do have enough in common that we can agree that L-shaped thing over there is a chair, and that creature wagging its tail through the water is a fish – that is unless it is Marilyn Monroe taking a dip. (Forgive my misogyny as well as my awful near-rhyme.) From the conventional reality of the most basic people, places, and things, we diverge into our own little worlds. Even here, some paths believe in enlightenment transmissions from teacher to student wherein the student finally apprehends a very similar reality as does the teacher. (Reading: The Transmission of the Lamp)
DeleteMy heart warms and dances to hear that your suffering is “mild” and “could be called happiness.” That is a deeper statement than at first appears. In any case, we suffer because our craving and desires cause us to suffer. We can love, laugh, and be rich, so long as we are not attached. A deep concept worth spending concentrated time to parse.
Are you on the “right track”? Yes! Always! Poems – the good ones that is – often lead readers to believe that there is some deep, dark secret meaning. Uh-uh. The words of the poem are just the doors to exploration. There is no “track.” If a person thinks there is, s/he may come to a disappointing end.
As far as the missionary/abundance inquiry, consider that forcing one’s beliefs and opinions on another person is risky business. How can we know what they need? Most likely what we have to impart to them is not what is needed. Missionary at the root is from the Latin mittere, to send. I say, if we have to send instead of receive, we’re in danger of missing the point and sending the wrong impression and/or information, and heaven forbid, beliefs. (ouch!)