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@ 27.055 MHz: Ad Astra; Vincenzo Galdi At The Edge Of Pompeii In 1887
From a slope, Vincenzo looked upon ruined Pompeii:
he wanted to imagine each beautiful boy---
adolescent, long-haired, delightedly barefoot,
or maybe even surreptitiously naked
with a boyfriend (lofters engorged), ready for love.
Wild forces---Vesuvius, or imperial Rome---
always exert the lethal powers that destroy
the delicately exquisite that we hold sacred.
From Alexandria, some astronomers say
that even the seasons' glistening stars above
are seething furnaces, with flames no man can put
out. Then Vincenzo wept for them---like boyfriends' sorrow
that would haunt this day, and even the bright morrow.
Shedding hot tears, he, shoeless, made his way back home.
J-Called
This is a elegy, but not for
This is a elegy, but not for one specific person. What is mourned, fervently and with "hot tears", is summarized with ferocious beauty in these lines:
"Wild forces---Vesuvius, or imperial Rome---
always exert the lethal powers that destroy
the delicately exquisite that we hold sacred."
In this realm of injustice and "lethal powers" where Darwinian aggression is the law of the land, some things are too tender to survive, too beautiful to endure.
This is the realization that crushes Vincenzo, a rare, gentle soul who internalizes the victims' tragedy; He's a man who, unlike most people, has the ideals and the empathy to contemplate the lessons of the past.
Vesuvius is an epic, meaningful metaphor for the countless cruelties and senseless tragedies that cut down the fragile reeds of society before they have a chance to grow. With this brutal reality looming large above him (as you so ingeniously illustrated in lines 11, 12 and 13 that allude to the great loss in Alexandria), Vincenzo becomes a victim himself, a symbol of all the fatalities of oppression and irrational fear. With poignant simplicity and symbolism, our bereaved lover of lovers walks home, shoeless, silenced and alone.
Perfect.
That image stayed with me while its symbolism hung in the air like smoke.
A gorgeously composed and brilliantly condensed saga. Well done!
However can I thank you for
However can I thank you for this stunning comment and your astute interpretation of my poem? All the thank you's in all the languages of this world would not suffice. I have been convinced for some time that you are the best interpreter of my poetry, and your comment here reinforces that.
I was particularly pleased that you noticed the parallel between the burning of the great Library in Alexandria and the destruction of Pompeii; as well as the personality I attempted to attribute to Vincenzo.
Did you know that a recent wall painting uncovered clearly shows a table set for a meal with the main dish being---believe it or not---a pizza? I have been eating pizza for nearly six decades and did not know, until a week ago or so, that it was an ancient dish.
Thanks again for the marvellous comment!
J-Called
Thank you kindly for your
Thank you kindly for your gracious and appreciative reply.
As a longtime enthusiast of food trivia (And food!) I do know that pizza, in some form, dates back to ancient times. One of the best ideas to come out of Italy.
It was a privilege and a delight to comment on this deeply moving and masterful treasure.
Thank you very much!
Thank you very much!
J-Called