Monday Morning Musings:
“But no man would sacrifice his honor for the one he loves.”
“It is a thing hundreds of thousands of women have done.”
–Henrik Ibsen, A Doll’s House
“Concrete and barbed wire, concrete and barbed wire
It’s only made of concrete and barbed wire”
–Lucinda Williams, “Concrete and Barbed Wire”
“The instant passed so fast, and when that happens, it goes for good and all you have is a slow lifetime to speculate on revisions. Except time flows one way and drags us with it no matter how hard we paddle upstream.”
–Charles Frazier, Varina
We go to a concert on a rainy night
but the lovely old theater is bright
with anticipation, as well as light–
the music after twenty years, still right
though some songs take on a different meaning
now, when certain leaders are not so much leaning
but rather trampling rights to the ground—
but here, we’re more interested in the sound
of the music and the stories that she told
of how her life and memories unfold.
The next day we see a play
a sequel of sorts, though not in the way Ibsen would say
(if he did) after the door famously slammed.
So, Nora returns—and
she’s done well, but it’s complicated
(of course), and if we’re a bit frustrated
by the end result, that may be the intent
to think about what the characters underwent
as well as life for women then and marriage vows—
it’s hard to escape the political now.
I think of all the women of the past
stuck in marriages, hoping to outlast
perhaps the drudgery—or pain—
not much choice, forced to remain.
We walk and talk about the play
as the sun lowers on the day
we see weddings amidst the falling, fallen leaves
where trees and sky form photo eaves
and I hope these couples face no final slamming door
except the one we all must face, till then, I hope they adore
one another, forever—and more.
But time flows on. . .or perhaps it circles from before. . .
I dreamt last night of flying through space
and time flowed, at an unmeasured pace
past glowing planets, circling round
bubbling with the sound
of joy and laughter—
a dream, real then, if not after.
The river flows
and no one knows
what the future will bring
even as to the past we cling,
or sling, snap, swing, sway
what we can, hope for a day
when light shines brightly
kissing the air lightly
illuminating gold leaves and blue sky
banishing fear, hate, and all the whys
of evil—though this day will never arrive
we can still try to make kindness thrive.
In the U.S., we have mid-term elections. I’m hoping the party of hate, fear, and lies, gets sent a clear message that the majority do not want that.