An Epiphany Poem by Daniel Brick
An Epiphany
I
We know all about those lost ages
dogging a time of glory, when darkness
descends suddenly like winter twilight
over a pale landscape, and we witness
even the heartiest hope can manage
only two last breaths and then is stilled.
And so we become reluctant carriers
of both grief and darkness. We try to escape
but find the way blocked by other griefs
and deeper darkness. Must Achilles die again,
this time with no attendant glory to ransom
his youth? Must Odysseus wander until exhaustion
depletes him and he dies in a strange land,
still longing for Ithaka, never-forgotten Ithaka?
Will the surviving heroes follow Ajax's example?
I wonder if eventually Homer thanked the gods
for his blindness, so that he could fully create
his bronze-armored, great-souled warriors
in all their ancient glory, even as the Iron Age
destroyed every last vestige of their virtue and wonder.
We must be obedient to the times
into which we are thrust, with no regard
for our readiness or willingness. We ask,
who now will determine the degree of
the next Job's suffering? Who will thank
Martha for her service but praise Mary
for recognizing the radiance? Who will
number the casualties at the next
Battle of the Somme? Who will love
our enemies even as the war heats up?
Who will declare a decade of peace
after a century of warfare? I fear,
the god of this world is abandoning
his creation. He walks awkwardly down
corridors of spent time, muttering,
HAD I KNOWN THIS THEN, THERE WOULD BE
NO NOW. He cradles a new-born lamb
in his folded arms, as he crosses
the threshold of The World
II
I feel life slipping out of me,
as the god withdraws his sustaining
strength. Is this the sway of Nothingness
overtaking my senses? But my will asserts
itself against the very thought
of an exhausted creation. I cannot tell
what my present condition is. It's as if
I stood in the eye of a storm, calm and
unafraid, as clouds of fiery energy
circle around and over me. Or is it
just a projection of mind, stunned by
the absence of the quiet thinking
of our departed god? A Lucid Dream
of vast proportions from which
I shall awake a new man, almost a man
ready to play the role of a god.
Perhaps this is the moment of
The Phoenix, whose mantle I will assume.
The fire subsides. I see people,
like myself, scattered across
the scorched landscape. Like me,
they seem to be ready and capable.
From the few remaining charred trees,
a flock of orange birds are singing brightly.
An agony of the anxious human thoughtful feeling for the conditions and perspectives of our times.//I do submitt here my translation of it into neohellenic.Thanks to Daniel I had the chance to create a corresponding work of art, I hope, in my language too.
Few can write a poem like this Daniel...except for you...because these characters from literature reside not only in your mind...but in your heart. They lend their experience to you and live in your spirit as you write...just like that special orange bird- In a way they are still alive. I enjoyed this poem because the parts fit so nicely together. The times of darkness you write about...they come and go like the Minnesota winters, they test our strength and our grit. The ending lines, 'I see people, like myself, scattered across the scorched landscape. Like me, they seem to be ready and capable. From the few remaining charred trees, a flock of orange birds are singing brightly. ' Speaks volumes and lifts me up hopefully. Thanks for sharing this poem.
Thank you so much for this comment. Pam. It is not only about a poem whose meaning you grasped but about the poet whose writing you appreciate. You know Mark Twain's comment that he could live a week on one compliment. Well, I can write this week's poem on the basis of your supportive reading. Thanks so much.
You have summed up the whole history of mankind in this splendid write. Every moment we seem to be inching closer to the apocalypse. But that moment of utter destruction holds off. For the embers of hope spark again in man's heart. Throughout history in chaotic periods man has felt as if the end is near but as long as we see n hear a flock of orange birds singing from the charred trees, life will resurrect itself. Great write with Biblical, mythological references. A monumental work with a message of hope. A super 10.
Yes, you are absolutely right: I meant this to be a poem of hope, which I consider to be a necessary virtue, because without hope we won't BELIEVE we can be virtuous. I like your reference to the orange birds. In my poems birds are always the friends of humankind. I had a canary I named Tweel after a friendly alien in a SF story, and that was the role he played in my life. He was barely two inches in height but he had a spirit that was as sweet and devoted as any human's.
This poem studded with references to classical, legendary and biblical characters can evolve only in the mind of an erudite and well read person like you! Yes, we are living in hard times and even God seems to have abandoned us! There is confusion and hopelessness! Yet there is not utter frustration.... There is still a silver lining amid dark clouds! Not all is lost! The image of the phoenix is very positive and the declaration... i shall awake a new man' gives hope! From the wrecks, we can still build! An amazing write! (10+)
Thanks for your extended and coherent comment Valsa. I say COHERENT because I don't think the poem is coherent. It was something I HAD TO WRITE but I was unclear about my destination. Your comment highlights some positive threads I'm glad are there. Your comment is like a helping hand.
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5/7/2024 7:30:44 PM # 1.0.0.1119
An extraordinary poem on what is going to happen to this world in the end.But like has to go on.There is hope as god has not abandoned completely and ready to help if we are going to change for better.10+++