Strange times

In Oxford, England I spent much of Sunday happily ensconced in the Poet's Corner at Blackwell's. The five poetry books (pictured) were my bounty: Fernando Pessoa: Selected Poems; Emergency Kit: Poems for Strange Times; R.S. Thomas: Collected Poems 1945-1990; Czelaw Milosz: New and Collected Poems 1931-2001 and Yevgeny Yevtushenko: Almost at the End.

The Poetry Thursday prompt is "time." Homecoming by Bruce Dawe (below) is taken from Emergency Kit: Poems for Strange Times. Although written about Vietnam, the poem could easily apply to present-day Iraq, Israel and Lebanon or any of the volatile areas of conflict where time is relative to dangers encountered.

Homecoming

All day, day after day, they're bringing them home,
they're picking them up, those they can find and bringing them
home,
they're bringing them in, piled on the hulls of Grants, in trucks
in convoys,
they're zipping them up in green plastic bags,
they're tagging them now in Saigon, in the mortuary coolness
they're giving them names, they're rolling them out of
the deep-freeze lockers - on the tarmac at Tan Son Nhut
the noble jets are whining like hounds,
they are bringing them home
- curly-heads, kinky-hairs, crew-cuts, balding non-coms
- they're high, now, high and higher, over the land, the
steaming chow mein,
their shadows are tracing the blue curve of the Pacific
with sorrowful quick fingers, heading south, heading east,
home, home, home - and the coasts swing upward, the old
ridiculous curvatures
of earth, the knuckled hills, the mangrove-swamps, the desert
emptiness...
In their sterile housing they tilt towards those like skiers
- taxiing in, on the long runways, the howl of their
homecoming rises
surrounding them like their last moments (the mash, the
splendour)
then fading at length as they move
on to small towns where dogs in the frozen sunset
raise muzzles in mute salute,
and on to cities in whose wide web of suburbs
telegrams tremble like leaves from a wintering tree
and the spider grief swings in his bitter geometry
- they're bringing them home, now, too late, too early.

Comments

[AscenderRisesAbove]

I am very curious about the Emergency Kit book!!

Welcome home - a pleasure to see your photo here as well; I went to the blond post to see what you looked like blond -- but no photo there.

Great to have you home!

[kj]

haunting, deep, stunning. thank you for this. we need to be the underground railroad, linking up as we can to stop this sad mess.

i appreciate the way you address it.

[Elisabeth]

Thank you so much for your kind comment on my blog. I began browsing through yours. What a fascinating background you have and, frankly, you look way too young to have a kid in college!

Excellent poem. My French uncle once sent me this quote: "L'histoire ne se répète pas, elle bégaie.” ("History does not repeat itself, it stutters.")

[patry]

A heartbreaking poem--and a much needed reminder.

[wendy]

The cycle keeps repeating. have we learned nothing? The poem was very moving all the different haired heads....all the different places that offered up their sons....and wept, taking them back home. very nice.

[Rebekah]

I'm silenced. We thought it would never happen again; it could never happen again. Oh God.

[Maureen]

Oh, I almost forgot to say I really like that photo with your post today ... you always have such wonderful -- simple -- images to accompany your posts, Tara. It's a sensual pile '-)

[Maureen]

Tara, thanks for sharing this one today -- and welcome home (it's been a long time since I've been around too!) I am not familiar with Bruce Dawe and now you've given me yet another poet to add to my list (in my mind it's called the bone-up list. I'll leave the interpretation of that to anyone but myself)

I especially like the center of this poem:
"they are bringing them home
- curly-heads, kinky-hairs, crew-cuts, balding non-coms
- they're high, now, high and higher, over the land, the
steaming chow mein,
their shadows are tracing the blue curve of the Pacific
with sorrowful quick fingers, heading south, heading east,
home, home, home - and the coasts swing upward, the old
ridiculous curvatures
of earth, the knuckled hills, the mangrove-swamps, the desert
emptiness..."

the rhythm, the rolling non-stop litany, the muted anger and loss behind his words ... every single word in the poem was chosen by Dawe, with great care and it shows. Words in that center section like knuckled, ridiculous, swamps, emptiness, shadows, curve, home ... home ... home contribute to the core emotion, help convey that emotion in a very real way.

I read this poem silently, then out loud. For me it has so much more power (and it is already a powerful piece) when the words are spoken --- like a prayer, like a cry.

GOOD choice for today's prompt! I love it.

[Laura]

Another Paris Parfait post that really moves me. You do take everything in and then give it back to the world--- the sad, the celebratory, and all points in between.

[bb]

What a haunting persistent rhythm this poem has. And yes, that ending sends a shiver right through me. Inspired choice for today, Tara.

[susanlavonne]

terrific poem! what a powerful final line...

and great find on the books!

[tinker]

How terribly poignant, and as others have pointed out, unfortunately timeless. Sometimes I wish that the leaders who make the policies and plans were the ones who had to personally deliver those telegrams that "tremble like leaves from a wintering tree." Perhaps wars might not last so long; or maybe never begin.

[Kamsin]

Those last four words are very moving. 'Too late, too early'. I will never understand war and I am thankful that I have never had to face the reality that these words speak of.

Btw., I've been coveting the R.S. Thomas collected poems for a while now.

[Gemma]

I'm so glad you are back. Your posts always evoke stirring emotions in me.

[josephine]

Too late, too early.

Powerful juxtaposition of word and meaning. My heart is burdened.

[bella]

Very sad. "Too late, too soon." I welled up with tears.
It's hard to imagine what's going on in this world, stuck here in suburbia. Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts and your views.. and giving us (who don't know or don't pay attention) the opportunity to learn and react.

[Tammy]

Very powerful Tara! I can see the dogs in the mute salute. Those books look like you found some real treasures.

[kristen]

I wish this poem didn't resonate with our times, but it was a perfect choice for today's poetry prompt. So sad because it has become timeless.

[jzr]

A great poem for a sad time. I'm so sorry we must write about this.

[January]

Yes, a great poem for today's prompt.

And I'm happy to say that I have the Emergency Kit anthology--a friend of mine brought it back from London for me. It is my "in case of trouble, break glass" book.

[ally bean]

perfect choice for the prompt. sad though that it is the perfect choice.

[sheela]

'they're bringing them home, now, too late, too early'. so powerful. thank you for this reminder, Tara.

[Jemima von Schindelberg]

too late, too early is so painful and so perfect. Timely choice.

All I wanted to say was "Fernando Fernando Fernando Fernando" in response to the top book in your pile. (Leaping around and clapping, of course.) He really was an overlooked genius.

Well, I like his poems, anyway.

[twitches]

I have a book about Vietnam war poets that includes this poem, too, although it's not the book you mention. Very sad and lovely.

[Becca]

This poem took my breath away. It describes so perfectly that ultimate sadness that results from every war, throughout the ages.

A very poignant reminder.

[rel]

First, welcome home from what looks to have been a very enjoyable holiday.

Second, thanks for the poignant poem. I was there --'64-'65, felt those feelings, thought those thoughts. I couldn't have expressed them as well.

rel

[Di]

A superb find, thanks for posting it.

[Marilyn]

How utterly and appropriately sad. That last line is something...I just wish those in charge would realize that that's exactly what they're doing.