ChatterBank1 min ago
Night Poem From Khandro (Fri.)
11 Answers
I haven't put one up for some time, but I read this today. I think the reference is to the American civil war, but it made me think of Ukraine;
RECONCILIATION.
Word over all, beautiful as the sky!
Beautiful that war, and all its deeds of carnage, must in
time be utterly lost;
That the hands of the sisters Death and Night, incessantly
softly wash again, and ever again, this soil'd world:
…For my enemy is dead—a man divine as myself is dead;
I look where he lies, white-faced and still, in the coffin—I
draw near;
I bend down and touch lightly with my lips the white face
in the coffin.
Walt Whitman (1819-1892)
RECONCILIATION.
Word over all, beautiful as the sky!
Beautiful that war, and all its deeds of carnage, must in
time be utterly lost;
That the hands of the sisters Death and Night, incessantly
softly wash again, and ever again, this soil'd world:
…For my enemy is dead—a man divine as myself is dead;
I look where he lies, white-faced and still, in the coffin—I
draw near;
I bend down and touch lightly with my lips the white face
in the coffin.
Walt Whitman (1819-1892)
Answers
1 to 11 of 11
You're right, Khandro. Reconciliati
20:20 Sun 16th Jul 2023
Spungle: I think, (& more importantly, feel) it is about how he previously saw this dead man as his enemy, but realizes that he was also a human being like himself; "a man divine" and forgives him and then kisses him on his face. An intentional decision to let go of his resentment and anger.
It's about absolution.
It's about absolution.
Reminiscent of 'Strange Meeting', Khandro. Sassoon, I think. Both beautiful poems.
From memory 'It seemed that out of battle I escaped, down one long tunnel dark-hewn by time' and then, amongst the shades he encounters, one stands and says 'I am the enemy you killed, my friend'.
I don't promise to have every word recalled correctly. It's a tremendous poem.
From memory 'It seemed that out of battle I escaped, down one long tunnel dark-hewn by time' and then, amongst the shades he encounters, one stands and says 'I am the enemy you killed, my friend'.
I don't promise to have every word recalled correctly. It's a tremendous poem.
jourdain; Yes!
The interesting question I find here though is, is Whitman's poem about reconciliation or forgiveness (or either) ?
Jesus tells us to forgive, but you can do that without the person even knowing they have been forgiven.
Reconciliation requires acceptance between both parties (doesn't it ?) and as the recipient in this case is dead, so perhaps that cannot be.
The interesting question I find here though is, is Whitman's poem about reconciliation or forgiveness (or either) ?
Jesus tells us to forgive, but you can do that without the person even knowing they have been forgiven.
Reconciliation requires acceptance between both parties (doesn't it ?) and as the recipient in this case is dead, so perhaps that cannot be.
You're right, Khandro. Reconciliation does imply reciprocation of feelings and in this case that is not possible. (Unlike Strange Meeting.)
Whitman accepts that 'Reconciliation' is a beautiful word and implies, eventually, the end of conflict.
Then it becomes a little difficult; he accepts Death and Darkness as permanent (incessant) companions in the world.... therefore forever paying reparation.............because his enemy is dead.
Humanity is dead.
It is a poem of loss - lost innocence. His enemy is dead. His enemy is also humanity.
He can kiss the cold lips - but the evil is done and cannot be mended. He must live with that guilt.
The more I think about it - the more I understand the coruscating condemnation, pain and inability to mend and restore. It is a terrible poem - in the meaning that I know you will understand.
Well, that's how I read it right now. Perhaps I'll feel differently in the morning. :)
Whitman accepts that 'Reconciliation' is a beautiful word and implies, eventually, the end of conflict.
Then it becomes a little difficult; he accepts Death and Darkness as permanent (incessant) companions in the world.... therefore forever paying reparation.............because his enemy is dead.
Humanity is dead.
It is a poem of loss - lost innocence. His enemy is dead. His enemy is also humanity.
He can kiss the cold lips - but the evil is done and cannot be mended. He must live with that guilt.
The more I think about it - the more I understand the coruscating condemnation, pain and inability to mend and restore. It is a terrible poem - in the meaning that I know you will understand.
Well, that's how I read it right now. Perhaps I'll feel differently in the morning. :)
jourdain: I've been doing a little research.
'Whitman was forty-two years old when the Civil War started. Some critics would charge that he should have joined the Union Army, but anyone who knew him, like his friend and biographer John Burroughs, could hardly conceive of the mild and empathic poet as a soldier.'
'Whitman, after visiting his brother George who was wounded in the Battle of Fredericksburg, served as a volunteer army nurse. He comforted soldiers in the hospitals by talking with them, writing letters for them, and nursing their wounds.'
I think that sheds light on the poem ? The important point is that we know what he means. He is a great poet & writer & nit-pickery isn't in order.
In fact I used something of his last year in a catalogue for an exhibition;
"I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so placid and self-contained, I stand and look at them long and long. They do not sweat and whine about their condition, they do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins ..."
Leaves of Grass: The Death-bed Edition.
:0)
'Whitman was forty-two years old when the Civil War started. Some critics would charge that he should have joined the Union Army, but anyone who knew him, like his friend and biographer John Burroughs, could hardly conceive of the mild and empathic poet as a soldier.'
'Whitman, after visiting his brother George who was wounded in the Battle of Fredericksburg, served as a volunteer army nurse. He comforted soldiers in the hospitals by talking with them, writing letters for them, and nursing their wounds.'
I think that sheds light on the poem ? The important point is that we know what he means. He is a great poet & writer & nit-pickery isn't in order.
In fact I used something of his last year in a catalogue for an exhibition;
"I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so placid and self-contained, I stand and look at them long and long. They do not sweat and whine about their condition, they do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins ..."
Leaves of Grass: The Death-bed Edition.
:0)
1 to 11 of 11
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