But there's still life to be lived. I think of children flying kites in the tent camps in Haiti after the earthquake. I think of smiling boys out for a walk with their dad in waist-high water in Mumbai, a photo I saw in this NPR story about south Asia, where floods have killed over a thousand this summer. And I think of little girls I saw in a photo from Texas, catching tadpoles in the water Hurricane Harvey left behind.
For some reason the flood photos kept making me think of this Stevenson poem I loved as a child and can still almost recite from memory. The dark brown rivers are now running down highways, where they aren't supposed to be, and another disaster becomes part of the memories of children.
Dark brown is the river. Golden is the sand. It flows along for ever, With trees on either hand. Green leaves a-floating, Castles of the foam, Boats of mine a-boating— Where will all come home? On goes the river And out past the mill, Away down the valley, Away down the hill. Away down the river, A hundred miles or more, Other little children Shall bring my boats ashore.
Robert Louis Stevenson
Here's this week's roundup.
19 comments:
I was reliving memories of Robert Louis Stevenson this week, too, with the picture book 'My Shadow', illustrated by (looking hard to finally find a name on the back cover) Sara Sanchez. The artwork was perfect for one of my favourite poems - most especially that last image of his shadow fast asleep in bed.
On a sombre note, we are very familiar with the devastation of flooding. It is always heartening to see people rise above it and shine with kindness and community spirit. But nothing can take awake from the heartbreak. Especially in the wake of such an enormity.
Of course you're right. I don't mean to minimize it, at all.
Even in the midst of tragedy you can still hear the laughter of children, and even in the darkest moments there can be flashes of light. These precious, fleeting moments don't take away the pain, but they can provide glimmers of hope, and reassure us that there is still a future, and that life will go on somehow.
My post today touches yours, Ruth. There is a time when our minds must turn to something good in spite of horror, or we would not survive. I enjoyed reading your words and the connection to the poem.
This poem, well your entire post really, hits so close to home today. Many Texans are facing the devastating floodwaters and remnants of Hurricane Harvey. My heart goes out to all people who have been displaced by the rushing rivers.
I love the spirit of this poem, and the image of little girls catching tadpoles in floodwaters. The beauty of seeing the world through the eyes of a child, even in times of devastation.
"Where will all come home?" That line really resonates in the current context.
In the midst of such devastation, it is important to remember that life does go on. It won't be the same, and it will be hard, but life goes on. In so many ways, children lead the way.
Beautiful post, Ruth - thank you.
Oh - I didn't feel you minimised it, Ruth! Sorry that it sounded like that. I think your poem was a perfect choice - because awful (awful awful) as it is, life, like a river, life goes on. And whilst the water is a terrible thing right now, it is also a river of life - and brings many wonderful things. Your poetry selection captured that.
Ruth, natural devastations are horrible in that they displace people and turn around lives but memories do linger. Thanks for bringing Stevenson's poem to us. When Superstorm Sandy hit Long Island so many were displaced. Just last night we were talking about the experience of items floating like the "Green leaves a-floating" in the poem,
Your link to the devastation of the monsoons in Bangladesh, India and Nepal is a sobering reminder that disasters in first world and third world countries are very different things. Sobering. But yes, life goes on...somehow...even with smiles in the downpour and kites in the refugee camps.
Isn't amazing how children keep on being children through and after a disaster? I love how there is hope in the play and sound of children when adults are caught up in big worries. Thank you for such a lovely old poem this week.
As you say, and impossible as it seems, "there's still life to be lived." Stevenson's words are perfect after this week of devastation. Thank you for sharing them.
What a perfect pair this poem makes with current events. I was not familiar with it, so thank you for sharing it. Oh, to see the world through the eyes of a child.
So beautiful, I cried for those little boats. Such sad news recently.
A wonderful, thought-provoking post, Ruth. These lines, "The dark brown rivers are now running down highways, where they aren't supposed to be, and another disaster becomes part of the memories of children" really put things in perspective.
Turning to Stevenson, for respite from the waters, wonderful! Seeing through the eye of a child, in the midsts of a disaster, that's something to remember, thank you for your thoughts and this poem!
Ruth, I'm seeing Irma gain force and headed your way. Prayers for your safety and all on the island. There really is no such thing as a God forsaken town.
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