POETRY OF THE SOUL II
By
John G. Sutton
Earlier I wrote a column about the power of poetry to express those emotions that lie closest to our soul. The response was quite overwhelming and it would be remiss of me not to respond to the many who wrote to me with their personal favourite verses. Though I can not include all the poems I received I will now try to offer a fair representation and attempt to discuss the spiritual meaning within those I have selected.
One interesting compilation of poetry came to me from a Mr John B. Johnson who has had his work published in in two volumes. Mr Johnson kindly sent me his book 'The Touch of Immortality-volume 2'. This is an example, one verse from a typical poem:
PARTINGS
By John B. Johnson
Nothing lives without the rains;
Fate constrains Man, his soul to grow
Universal law proclaims
All things change, evolve and go
This poem addresses the widely held belief that our earthly life is but a preparation for something greater that awaits in the world beyond. Consider the first line; 'Nothing lives without the rains'. As The Platters once sang 'Into each life some rain must fall'. Only by watering our souls with the experiences, often difficult experiences, of life can we progress and, as the poem says; 'evolve and go'. This process of spiritual evolution is a theme often found in poetry. Alfred Lord Tennyson wrote a poem which, for me, captures this. Here is the final verse, it holds the promise of God's love as the destiny for travellers beyond this veil of tears;
CROSSING THE BAR
By Alfred Lord Tennyson
For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar.
In this poem Tennyson uses the sea going metaphor to express his belief that at the time of death our souls set sail to a destination guided by the Divine Pilot or God.
A Mrs Griifin of Sheffield sent me a poem written by an anonymous individual. She had treasured this verse for many years and hoped it might help others. I include below a section of this work which seems to me to emphasise the need we as incarnate souls have to feel that our lives are shared by our loved ones.
TOUCHING SHOULDERS Anonymous
Did you know that I longed for a smile on your face
And for the words that were all ringing true
Did you know that I grew stronger and better
Because I merely touched shoulders with you
Echoes of 'Wind Beneath My Wings' I feel within those lines. It is true that this earthly life we live is enriched by those we love and respect. Yet love is so hard to define and is so often mistaken for something it is not. Consider the way some materialists seem to love the things they posses. Look out any Sunday morning into the suburban streets and see the devotees of our motor car society paying homage to their lesser gods. Yet lesser gods are very much in vogue. Even Elvis Presley, who for all his massive following was never a spiritual leader, has been declared divine by some theologically inept individuals. Obviously they have never seen 'It Happened At The World's Fair' or 'Kissin' Cousin's'. Surely those two films prove that Presley was not only human but also fallible, at least as far as selecting scripts .
This is a verse sent to me by Mrs Kathleen Fowler. It is by Christina the younger sister of Dante Gabriel Rossetti one of England's most famous poets. This verse expresses the struggle that is this human life we lead. How often do we feel that every step we take leads us only further into difficulty. It is a rather pessimistic view but one that has crossed my mind before today. Read this now and ask yourself is this a fair metaphor for life.
UP-HILL
By Christina Rossetti
Does the road wind up-hill all the way?
Yes, to the very end
Will the day's journey be the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend
As a metaphor for life this rather reminds me of the work of A.E. Housman, the poet of rural nostalgia who compares life to the seasons and in his incredibly successful collection 'A Shropshire Lad' wrote these lines which seems, to me at least, to sit well alongside the Rossetti;\
That is the land of lost content
I see it shining plain
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again
You see although the road may well wind up-hill all the way, as we proceed, ever onwards, are we not increasingly enjoying a better and better view. As Housman says we 'cannot come again'. Our youthful joys are passed and yet they remain, like the blue remembered hills of childhood where we ran our heedless ways.
As John Greenleaf Whittier the American poet said; 'For all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest of all are these; It might have been'. Indeed.