Friday, September 04, 2015

Poetry Friday: It's September

I'm not sure where August went.  I remember it was a really sad month, as I said goodbye to my firstborn and dropped her off at college.  I remember coming home and starting into the new reality.  I'm figuring it out day by day. 

This D.H. Lawrence poem was in the Poets.org Poem-a-Day email one day last week.  I love the way it captures those moments when you are aware of the existence of your perfect love - for your spouse, your child, your friend - and then the moment when you see the difference between the beautiful ideal and the day to day.  Seriously, why do we suffer when such perfect love exists?  Why can't we live on that plane all the time?  I suspect it has something to do with that line "gone to sleep."  The way your baby is an angel while sleeping, and a needy tyrant once awake.  I want to spend more time being aware of that perfect love.  Sure, the suffering is part of it, but so much gratitude, too, for the love, the love that is "almost bliss."

 

Bei Hennef

 
D. H. Lawrence
The little river twittering in the twilight,
The wan, wondering look of the pale sky,
             This is almost bliss.
 
And everything shut up and gone to sleep,
All the troubles and anxieties and pain
             Gone under the twilight.
 
Only the twilight now, and the soft “Sh!” of the river
             That will last forever.
 
And at last I know my love for you is here,
I can see it all, it is whole like the twilight,
It is large, so large, I could not see it before
Because of the little lights and flickers and interruptions,
             Troubles, anxieties, and pains.
 
             You are the call and I am the answer,
             You are the wish, and I the fulfillment,
             You are the night, and I the day.
                          What else—it is perfect enough,
                          It is perfectly complete,
                          You and I.
Strange, how we suffer in spite of this!


Linda is hosting the roundup here.


3 comments:

Linda Baie said...

Ruth, I've been trying to figure out all day who the Lawrence poem was from, finally remembered that I hadn't seen a post from you, so found you. Your link on my post just links back to me, sorry. I love the poem, and you are right, "Because of the little lights and flickers and interruptions,/Troubles, anxieties, and pains." that we forget what the special love is. If you want to link up again, it's still open!

Tabatha said...

"I can see it all, it is whole like the twilight,
It is large, so large, I could not see it before
Because of the little lights and flickers and interruptions,
Troubles, anxieties, and pains." -- lovely.
Sorry for the sadness of your month, Ruth.

Mary Lee said...

I read the poem quickly and just as quickly clicked it out of my email. Thanks for bringing me back to it, making me look at it again, and showing it to me through your eyes.