“The low divides we dare not cross,
all that we’ve loved, all that we’ve lost…”
So begins the poem Divides by Eric M. Vogt, a piece that I return to read now and then. In short and seamless lines any manner of things loved and lost are conjured up for the reader, and although it is Valentine’s Day, loss has long been a poetic side to love.
There are surely as many beautiful poems of loss as there are of love, and the stories that compel us almost never contain love alone. Those stories contain uncertainty, regret, transience, and the irrevocable loss itself, where sadness serves as a tribute and brings us to question endings.
What is an ending? Fatigue, alienation, death?
“Love is a many splendoured thing”, and the ending of loves throughout history has been a great mover of men, cities, and countries. Divides brought all this and more to mind. And it ends with a tantalizing reference to memory, the only place where things that have ended may survive.
Read “Divides” and it’s a wonderful piece, Lily. I agree with your thoughts regarding loss and love. I believe that where you have love, there will always be eventual accompanying loss. Memories are the continuance of that love lost. Good night, darlin’ girl.
Paul
I am glad to hear you liked it. You’re right, for everyone dies someday, and one person will always be left behind! A good night to you, too
Lily
But memeory is a thief that steals the truth and replaces it with a past that is changed simply by that touch and its connections to itself.>KB
Maybe so, but when sometimes you can control the hands of that thief, you can steal some marvelous imaginary things
Lily
Memory connot be controled. It is an animal of the unconscious that protects us even against a yearning for the truth.>KB
Well perhaps we all play with our memories differently π
Lily
Hm..I’m very much interested in reading this too : ).
Thank you for sharing.
That’s great, and you’re welcome π
Lily
“…and memories that aren’t enough.” Eric Vogt knows of what he speaks. Thank you.
I’m glad that you enjoyed it. And thank you for visiting!
Lily
Thoughtful words from one so young. If indeed you were not born 1205. If you were, I hope it was not in Adrianople. I normally rely on my grey matter when I make such comments; but I did “google this with bing,” as it were. For some reason, I found I could not resist.
I was not born then, though you are close in your reasoning! Those are but the day and month, and not the year. Thankfully it was also not in Adrianople π
Lily
It would perhaps have ruined an otherwise lovely spring day. Thank you for stopping by.
Perhaps! And it was my pleasure π
Lily
likewise
I do not know the subject matter but enjoyed your confident remarks and your insights on love as a theme for poetry.
Thank you very much π
Is that what the poem is about? I love your response to it … makes me feel rather dense at the moment …
I think the poem could mean many things, and this is just what I got out of it, when I was thinking on it and Valentine’s Day π
Thank you for visiting, and commenting!
Lily
Of course possibly the most famous ‘beautiful poem of loss’ is Tennyson’s In Memoriam, a 20 year long elegy to his friend, Arthur Henry Hallam. It’s a sweeping, sorrowful song of love, grief and resolution, which traverses multiple discourses- science, philosophy, psychology – in an attempt to come to terms with the sudden death of a loved one. Can’t recommend it enough, but put aside a day to do it justice!
I haven’t read it, and now I shall. Thank you for mentioning it!
Lily
Fascinating.
“What is an ending? Fatigue, alienation, death?”
Real poetry.
I wonder what other ways love might end – but that’s not something to worry about at 2am π
Lily