Thanks, Judy!
Stephen V
> Stephen, this is exquisite.
>
> Judy
> ----- Original Message -----
> From: "Stephen Vincent" <[log in to unmask]>
> To: <[log in to unmask]>
> Sent: Wednesday, July 06, 2005 11:54 AM
> Subject: Snap - Vincent
>
>
>> On Elegy
>>
>> It's odd to engage elegy as a passion and, yet, so it comes to one with the
>> passing of a father, any family member or close friend. A passion that does
>> not come for a passing moment, but enshrines itself, a quilt work of
>> stitched moments - appearances and disappearances - as the ghost of the
>> absent appoints itself as a member of our days, including, most forcefully,
>> one's dreams at night, but, then again, as a presence on the street, in the
>> countryside, or on the waters in the days and months that follow.
>> Neither is this a benign appearance - but, perhaps - more like something of
>> an argument. The beloved refuses an amputation, one in which we are allowed
>> to quickly forget, erase everything except a monument that one erects upon a
>> ground or, say, as a poem or an obituary that free us from any further
>> intrusion into our lives.
>> No, at least for those of us who choose to remain open, as I suggest -
>> wittingly or not - we must to these places where one finds him or herself at
>> what one can only call untrained waters, or, switching elements, an earth
>> that slips away and will not forgive until you, the bereaved, provide an
>> answer, a calling out, a witness, an incorporation, then a release, a
>> grievous release, where what one senses is fundamentally shrill, a bondage
>> which begins to slowly subside. The house of the beloved is disassembled.
>> Through the floor beams one sees a rich, dark earth and one says, now we can
>> move on; we have the provision, a fertile one, to do so.
>> "She no longer walks these hills."
>>
|