Poetry

I was perusing a book of verse the other day and found this little gem by Elizabeth Barret Browning:

Grief

I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless;
That only men incredulous of despair,
Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air
Beat upward to God's throne in loud access
Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness,
In souls as countries, lieth silent-bare
Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare
Of the absolute Heavens. Deep hearted man, express
Grief for thy Dead in silence like to death--
Most like monumental statue set
In everlasting watch and moveless woe
Till itself crumble to the dust beneath.
Touch it; the marble eyelids are not wet:
If it could weep, it could arise and go.

I have always been attracted to poetry, though I can't pinpoint why. Perhaps it's because the best poets have such mastery over language and an ability to create a scene in my head and emotions in my heart with simple strings of letters. Perhaps that's why there are so many sections of the Bible that are written in poetic form (if you speak the original language of scripture): God knows how to get to our hearts.

I recently heard a saying: "If it's true, it's not new." Poets have long expressed things we've all thought or said in much more graceful tones. If I could take an historical survey of poetry, I would see that there's nothing I've felt or experienced that's new or exceptional. That's a comforting fact, given that our culture tends to favor the solo position. We're not often encouraged to share our deepest thoughts, unless we're in a controlled setting with some sort of expert. So consider this poem an expose on my grief. Elizabeth Barret Browing, who lost her brother, I think, understood my grieving tendency and she captured it in those beautiful words.

My suggestion for you is to find yourself a book of great poetry and read some OUT LOUD. Connect yourself to the long line of men and women who shared their hearts and minds with others. Let me know what you find!