Emily, or Obscurity?
Today is Tuesday, 10 November 2009.
“Obscurity of his very own”. A fine line.
Well, “gracious”, as my grandmother said.
The stupidity of guns. Let’s all thank the NRA, etc., You Know Whom You Are, for putting guns in the hands of this mentally ill guy, in, wouldn't one know, Texas.
Having been, forgive me, once upon a time, a “pastor”, “minister”, what have you, I have seen more than my share of the mentally ill, and I don’t want guns in their hands, any more than I want them in the hands of the purportedly sane.
Because, let’s face it: all of us get angry sometimes, and bad things can happen. So: no guns.
It’s a beautiful poem, the Lowell, and all I could think of at the moment. I’m so sad for all the families, as if that matters.
Now, if one thinks that obscure,
By Emily Dicksinson
I died for beauty but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.
He questioned softly why I failed?
"For beauty," I replied.
"And I for truth, the two are one;
We brethren are," he said.
And so, as kinsmen met a night,
We talked between the rooms,
Until the moss had reached our lips,
And covered up our names.
“Obscurity of his very own”. A fine line.
Well, “gracious”, as my grandmother said.
The stupidity of guns. Let’s all thank the NRA, etc., You Know Whom You Are, for putting guns in the hands of this mentally ill guy, in, wouldn't one know, Texas.
Having been, forgive me, once upon a time, a “pastor”, “minister”, what have you, I have seen more than my share of the mentally ill, and I don’t want guns in their hands, any more than I want them in the hands of the purportedly sane.
Because, let’s face it: all of us get angry sometimes, and bad things can happen. So: no guns.
It’s a beautiful poem, the Lowell, and all I could think of at the moment. I’m so sad for all the families, as if that matters.
Now, if one thinks that obscure,
By Emily Dicksinson
I died for beauty but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.
He questioned softly why I failed?
"For beauty," I replied.
"And I for truth, the two are one;
We brethren are," he said.
And so, as kinsmen met a night,
We talked between the rooms,
Until the moss had reached our lips,
And covered up our names.
posted by HH at 3:28 PM
1 Comments:
I am inexpressably sad for the friends and families who lost loved ones at Fort Hood.
I find Emily's words peaceful and somehow comforting, despite the last strange image of the moss at their lips.
I wish I understood more how such things happen; no, I wish others understood more clearly that violence and death never bring peace or fulfillment or joy. I can't imagine that they ever provide any satisfaction of any kind.
If only there was more tolerance and less anger in the world. We just have to keep trying, teaching our children, living by example.
There is a song from the musical South Pacific, "You've Got to Be Carefully Taught," that has always spoken to me. If we can teach hate and fear of those who are different, surely we can also teach acceptance and friendship.
I'll try to reserve my hatred for guns and bombs, not people.
My, but I do go on. Guess I'm just thinking "aloud" and I borrowed your forum. Excuse, please.
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