Sunday, September 12, 2021

Thought for the Day

Love sees what is invisible.
~ Simone Weil
_________________________

Quoted from Simone Weil, Waiting for God (Harper Perennial Modern Classics, 2009), page 149

Simone Weil (1909-1943), French Religious Philosopher, Essayist, Poet, Dramatist, Social Critic, Political Activist

"The Question of God", Public Broadcasting Service

1 comment:

Richard Theodore Beck said...

I'm reading Zaretsky's book on her now.

I came across your blog looking for some poets I once knew from One Stop Poetry. I knew Jenne Andrews' work:

For Cairo, Burning
by
Jenne' R. Andrews

They that see a great light
Shall all be changed.. Luke…

In lux dubitas--- doubt
Within light
I travel north over frozen lands
Into the storm of gilded sand

Seated in the wind
We bridge the spent moon
Heading east
Where morning is
  
We seek an end to tyranny
Our fears
Go fallow, like the corn field
Geese come
To break the hull, peck
And split the chaff

So is faith seeded
So does fear take wing
Transformed
Swan lifting on the night
  
iii

The eyes of all
Wait upon us

But we are the watchers
And those who bring forth.
We act upon the hills
With the seed flung from our hands

We raise up growth
From a charred field
That which spills
From our pockets
Is that which brings
The wheat.

iv

I seek you in a delirium
I am spent in the poppies
   
I dress myself
In the vestments of the owl
I look out from a rookery
In the crags

I soar over the parting sea,
That wave of the lost
That makes way
For something in white silk
Draped, disguised.

No one sees
Who that one is
It passes, unnamed
Would you come,
upon this clear
Midnight
Like a thousand winds
A hundred stallions from the heavens

Would the black waters part

v

Some say the broken
Of the desert
Cannot handle freedom.

This is a lie.
Humble the liars
Who say the people
Are blind
And without clean souls
And cannot find their way.

Freedom rides in upon a clear midnight
Veiled, yet palpable
They that mourn and burn

See her
By the light of the dawn
And fall upon her
Like bread.









Response to Jenne' R. Andrews’ For Cairo, Burning

I dress myself
In the vestments of the owl
I look out from a rookery
In the crags…

You conjure with these words,
strike a bass chord,
forebode...
you call on many allusions here
and remind us
the owl is a night hunter,
an omen,
a fortune teller.
He is wise
to rest by day
in the rookery
atop dusty rafters
in the grainery
for his best work is done by night
and in the context of Cairo,
he plots his revolution
in the crags
with brother pigeon and sister swallow.
From it all,
your words sing of a love
and of a wellspring of hope
which must be at the heart
of all revolutions.



http://parolavivace.blogspot.com/2011/02/re-post-cairo-burning.html


Letter to Jenne Andrews

Jenne,
 
May I post this:
 
Response to Jenne' R. Andrews’ For Cairo, Burning
I couldn't have written a better poem than yours that captures the soul of what is happening in Cairo.  Your poem is about the aspirations of people not about politics and all the gobblygoop attached to the events in Egypt.  I think your poem is attempting to express what Ché spoke about when he said:
 
At the risk of seeming ridiculous, let me say that the true revolutionary is guided by a great feeling of love. It is impossible to think of a genuine revolutionary lacking this quality... We must strive every day so that this love of living humanity will be transformed into actual deeds, into acts that serve as examples, as a moving force.
 
Whatever comes from the events in Egypt, we must hope that there are those people who act out of love.  You dance with this idea in your poem when you write of faith and clean souls.
 
 
Warm regards,
 
Ted Richards (The pseudonym I used to blogpost before I retired.)

Prose Form:

You conjure with these words, strike a bass chord, forebode...you call on many allusions here and remind us the owl is a night hunter, an omen, a fortune teller. He is wise to rest by day in the rookery atop dusty rafters in the grainery for his best work is done by night and in the context of Cairo, he plots his revolution in the crags with brother pidgeon and sister swallow. From it all, your words sing of a wellspring of hope which must be at the heart of all revolutions.

February 3, 2011 at 8:25 PM