Monday, April 21, 2008

The Fugue



Last night,
her believing
in his breath
across the barrens
of white tendon,
black marrow

But it was only the
wild, wild winds.

And this morning
dawning so still,
so sore,
like piano keys
after a
Rachmaninoff storm


[Orphan Girl at the Cemetery, by Eugene Delacroix]

14 comments:

jason evans said...

The presence not really there can be the strongest presence of all.

Very thought provoking in this in-between season. And as usual, the marriage of science, music, and art is wonderful.

Sarah Hina said...

I love this painting. I'm usually more drawn to post-Impressionistic art, but Delacroix was a real revolutionary in expressing emotion.

Her pensiveness makes me want to know what she's looking at. Since she's in a cemetery, probably just that almost-presence you speak of, Jason.

Billy said...

This is a gem in sound and theme! The first few lines reminded me of Wuthering Heights and the wild winds on the moors.

Sarah Hina said...

Thanks, Billy. You read my mind. :)

Jamie Ford said...

Found my way here via Jaye's blog. Lovely stuff. Thank you.

Ello said...

Hey the poem and the painting seemed to be meant for each other! Very vivid. Very well done!

Aine said...

I can feel her pain and longing. "Like piano keys after a
Rachmaninoff storm" is so effective. That silence is reverberating in my head. It makes my heart ache. I don't ever want to experience this for real....

Sarah Hina said...

Thanks so much for passing by, Jamie, and for your kind words. I love to see new faces.

Ello, I wanted to capture with words the opening of possibilities, but also the rawer void that quickly follows. Thanks for making me feel like I got near to the mark. :)

Aine, I really struggled with the first part of this poem, and am still not entirely pleased with it, but yes, that last stanza made it worth it for me. Describing the absence of something is sometimes more effective than describing the thing itself.

I'm glad it reached you! :)

raine said...

Both eloquent and elegant.

Two words:
"Rachmaninoff storm"

Wonderful, Sarah.

Bernita said...

I have always like Rachmaninoff. A wonderful line.

Thank you, Sarah, for this poem and your good wishes.
Last night I was listening for his breath.

Sarah Hina said...

Thank you, Raine! I'm so glad you stopped by. :)

I can only imagine, Bernita. What relief. I'm so glad everything turned out all right.

ChristineEldin said...

It's funny because everyone is talking about an absence, which I definitely feel. But I felt even stronger that she still believed, so it wasn't truly an absence, at least not to her. A delusional longing?
Love this one.

Sarah Hina said...

I like your interpretation, Chris. It's more hopeful.

Certainly, the word "fugue" can have a double connotation here, as a musical term and a psychological state associated with loss of memory. Perhaps in the morning she has that raw, exposed sense of something missed, but also the belief that there's something still to be sought.

Hotwire said...

after a Rachmaninoff storm - that one is a beauty!!