Monday, July 24, 2017
More Broken Things
...you scorch us...
...you burn me...
Either way, is it not what every poem distills down to: an expression of desire, passion, longing, loss, a will to go on despite the pain inherent in living?
Today in the parking lot of my favorite restaurant, my husband and I saw a great blue heron, usually a magnificent bird that will have nothing to do with gravel parking lots. We quickly realized that this bird was injured; worse than a broken wing, a broken leg. I say worse, because the woman at the Avian Wildlife Center said there is little they can do to capture and help a bird that is still able to fly away.
And so, we are thinking once again about broken things, fragments of a poem, a useless leg on a wading bird, a heartache, a helplessness that gives us pause.
For you my lovely ones my thoughts
do not change
reads another Sappho fragment. And another:
their hearts grew cold
and they folded their wings
[Those last two fragments trans. Philip Freeman.]