When my father and my mother forsake me, then the
Lord will take me up.
---Psalm 27:20
But as for you, ye thought evil against me; but
God meant it unto good, to bring to pass, as
it is this day . . .
---Genesis 50:20
Anticipating my love of Early Christianity,
I wanted to acquire deep knowledge of archaeology.
Because I loved the grandeur of the galaxy,
I wanted to become observant in astronomy.
But my parents believed that this indicated obsession
(or so neighbor Doris had given expression
of this to them, although psychology was not her profession).
So my parents forbid these interests to me;
and removed or obstructed any opportunity
that would have advanced my knowledge, even minimally.
But Love, Who is God, and Who has deeply loved me
summoned my soul, beneath the stars, to Poetry---
which can give, to both interests, a presence and summary;
and in which I need never fear parental repression.
Starward
Author's Notes/Comments:
A comment from Patriciajj, which I just read tonight, caused me to rethink---even at this late time, this eleventh hour of my life, my resentment toward my parents for actively forbidding and obstructing my interests in the subjects of archaeology and astronomy. During my preschool years, an adolescent male on our street, whom I will refer to herei as L---, developed an interest in the plays of Shakespeare that became a remarkable expertise in one so young. (That he was also beautiful and a homosexual did not enhance his reputation on our street.) Neighbor Doris began to speak of him privately to other parents---explaining to them (although she had no professional training in psychology) that his interest was an obsession; that it had caused his homosexuality; and that any deeply held and enjoyed interest, such as his in Shakespeare, was indicative of mental instablity (with the implicatin of latent homosexuality, as well). Aghast, my parents actively and effectively interfered with the development of these two interests of mine.
But God used their betrayal of my trust in them to lead me, ultimately, to Poetry (which, on this day in 1975, I decided to pursue as a potential vocation); and in Poetry, I can enjoy and experience the beauty of early Christianity in archaeology, and the grandeur of the cosmos in astronomy. And, given the way collegiate studies are governed, I could not have majored in both, and would have had to choose one over the other. As a Poet, I can enjoy both without restriction.
I have spent most of my life resenting my parents for their part in this, when, in fact, they were merely tools in my progress toward Poetry (which my collection of poems on this site will demonstrate where that progress has gone). After reading Patricia's comment, and her allusion to Luke 7:47 led me to consider the two Scriptures I have cited above as epigraphs; and these have brought to my attention the need to let go of my resentment toward my parents. Besides, one of the best experiences of my entire existence was sitting with them at dinner in our home on the evening of October 13, 1975, and telling them that I wanted to be a Poet. The horror suddenly expressed on their faces was almost comical: Poetry was one of the four cardinal sins in their perspective---the others being communism, homosexuality, and behaving subversively like a hippy (long-hair, ragged jeans, barefoot---all of which were also forbidden to me). My parents believed that anyone who participated in one of those four "sins" also participated, simultaneously, in at least a second one of them, if not all of them. Although they are both deceased now (my father and I reconciled shortly before his death; my mother and I never did), I can forgive them both because God restored to me what they thought they had taken from me.
You chose the perfect,
You chose the perfect, Heaven-picked verses to accompany your life-altering poem. As I read this illuminating reflection on past events that from a murky human perspective seem tragic, but were, from a broader viewpoint, vital threads in the glorious tapestry that is your life, those verses came alive in my spirit.
But here's the kicker: you eventually found a way to combine both astronomy and poetry as interests.
I'm thrilled and inspired by the way you excavated the diamond in the abyss as many enlightened seekers and saints learned to do throughout the ages. But as magnificent as your radiant gift of poetry (your passion for it, acumen for it, talent for it) is, the most enduring and crucial gift was the liberation from resentment.
If you feel that your mortal path is nearing its end, certainly you want to travel light and carry only the things that can fit through the infinite door, such as forgiveness and compassion. But even if the end is a hundred years away (and I'm talking to myself here as well) why waste a minute shambling under the weight of soul-devouring bitterness?
Thank you immensely for reading my comment with such insight and for acknowledging it in your notes.
Keep lifting us Starward with your pen!
This comment is so beautiful,
This comment is so beautiful, and so comprehensive, that it brought me nearly to tears when I read it. I have waited a couple of hours to respond because I am not sure I am capable of adequately replying. Still, I am going to try because I want to acknowledge the effect of your words without further delay. I had to undergo a medical procedure today---it went far better than expected---but I am still a little shaky.
Throughout my life, I have clung to certain concepts that comfort or inspire me. The shiny side of this coin may be considered loyalty or devotion; the tarnished side can be considered narrow-mindedness and self-righteousness. On the tarnished side, I have, since childhood, blamed and resented my parents for their tendency to attempt to deflate any strong interest I showed. My collection of the Aurora Plastic models of the Universal monsters (which my parents purchased, assembled, and painted for me from Christmas of 1963 through late spring of 1964) was moved out to a storage shed because I loved it too much. My soapbox derby racer (a gift from a family friend; I never raced it) was given to the son of my mother's favorite cousin (without even telling me he was going to take it) simply because he had expressed an interest in it. My telescope was restricted in use: I could not look through it after 9pm. My collection of vintage astronomy magazines (there must have been at least a hundred), which would be worth a small fortune today, mysteriously "vanished" in a single day, and the weekly garbage collection on our street was the very next day, lol. The one magazine they could not bring themselves to take was about Egyptology, and it was sacred because I had retireved it from my deceased maternal grandmother's effects when her house was cleaned out by the family after her passing.
Even when they shipped me off to college for the first term of my freshman year, they hinted that my c.b. radio---which I was compelled to leave behind at home--might "disappear." By that time I had them over the barrel just a bit, so I told them if it disappeared from my room in their home, I would disappear from college the next term. Needless to say, when I came back home on Tuesday, November 23rd, 1976, the c.b. was exactly in the same drawer in my dresser where I had left it on the previous September 9th.
For decades, though, I have been too stubborn and bitter to realize that, although they removed those things from me during my childhood, and did their best to squelch my interest lest neighbor Doris begin to tell people I was mentally unstable, or lest I become like Leslie down the street, God, by turning me toward Poetry on October 13th of 1975, brought those interests back to me at what has been a much more fruitful level. Without meaning to sound arrogant, I cannot imagine my life without Poetry; and, had I studied astronomy or archaeology as I first thought to, I might have missed my calling as a Poet. I now realize---after thinking about your words in the previous comment---that I need to forgive them, although they are no longer in this world, because, like Joseph's brothers, they removed me from one venue so that another, and far more productive, venue to receive me, nurture me, and allow me to blossom. This was God's doing and, to use a phrase like the Psalmist's, "marvelous in my eyes." Here at PostPoems I can see the sum total of what I have produced---5700 poems, and I do not think it is unreasonable to hope that at least 57 of them are worth preserving after my departure.
Your advice to travel light for that final journey is both well stated and well taken. And I think that is part of the preparation which, for some months now, I feel that I am being given. The personal metaphor for this stage of my life is those last few days of my first term at college before I was transported back home for a wonderful reunion of all that I had loved and left behind from the summer of 1976. That reunion was short-lived, and resulted in another parting; and by my next return, most of it had fallen apart as people's lives simply changed and went on in scattered directions. The reunion that awaits me will be eternal, not short; and it will never be subjected to another parting, and it will never fall apart. And just as I traveled light to and from that terrible dormitory on campus, on September 9th and then November 23rd of 1976, I will---as you put it so well---travel light on that final soar-out to the stars. I will take with me my Faith, my memories, and my Poetry (that which is in my soul, not just here at PostPoems), just as I did in 1976; but for real this time, and without fear of any further frustration or alteration.
And, just as much as you have given me good advice for the departure, you have also given me equally good advice for the remainder of the remainder of my time here, however short or long that happens to be. Your words, "shambling under the weight of soul-devouring bitterness" ought to be written across the sky, but I assure you they are now written on my soul, as well, and I see a progressive abandoning of things I have carried, wrongly, for years. Just as the Epistle to the Hebrews tells us to drop the weight of the sins that so easily beset us, so the memories and resentments (even if, in human terms, justified) need also to be dropped if they weight me down or continue to devour my soul.
There is a passage in the Old Testament book of Solomon's Proverbs that speaks of iron sharpening iron. In the same way Poets sharpen Poets; in the same way you, in the grandeur of your superlative perspective on all things, have reached down to me to help me in the lightening of my load as I continue to proceed forward on what I believe to be my final pathway. A little over three years ago, I was admitted to the magnificence of your Poetry by what seemed like random (but, now I know, it was very much directed) browsing; and, in this comment to which I am replying, you have admitted me to your wisdom. You have not only spoken as a Poet, but as a healer and an encourager.
I apologize if this reply as seemed perhaps to personal, or too detailed from my history, or anything like that. I will not change or delete a single word, because I think this is the reply I was meant to offer, gratefully and eagerly, to your superb comment. Despite those who disagree with or disbelieve it, there is a real community here on PostPoems---and in reaching out to me with your wise comments, and with the intention to help me get ready for the eventual launch day, you have proven beyond anyone's skepticism that the community does exist, and that our greatest Poets here help other poets with more than just a literary analysis of a given poem. For three years, I have been indebted to you for the joy your Poetry has brought me; now, going forward, I am even more indebted for your wisdom and the many personal reach-outs to help me along this path. I sincerely thank you. Those two words are small, but they are all I have; and perhaps because they are all that I have, that will give you, or anyone else who read this, some idea of the greatness and vastness of your wisdom.
(And on a very, very personal level, I am always so pleased when you work my screen name into one of your comments. Others may accuse me of arrogance or egotism in admitting this, but I admit it with the joy of a little kid who has just found another Easter egg.)
Starward
I'm deeply moved by your
I'm deeply moved by your heartbreaking (and I thought my parents were tough!) and ultimately promising journey. Thank you wholeheartedly, Stellar Poet, for reading my comment with your rare, intuitive perception that I've come to appreciate more than you know.
Keep doing you and lifting us up along the way.
Thank you. I feel very
Thank you. I feel very blessed that I have received comments from two of PostPoems' finest Poets---yourself and crypticbard. That encourages and strenghtens me very much.
Starward
As with that famed allusion
As with that famed allusion to whatever was meant for evil or in-evil has worked out for good in God's hands when we are so disposed to allow the Avenger to avenge, revenge being solely His.
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver
Thank you for commenting.
Thank you for commenting. And I agree with you totally.
All my life, I have always been at least a day late and a dollar short, metaphorically speaking, and it has taken me about fifty-seven years to forgive my parents for beginning the process by which they attempted to block my two overwhelming interests. And though my parents were solidly sensible people in most things, their fear of obsession and that I would become like Leslie (who lived down the street), implanted in their minds by neighbor Doris, caused them to act and think irrationally about my interests. (For example, for my ninth birthday, they purchased a small but very efficient telescope and had it mounted on a surveyor's tripod so that I could sit while looking into it. Then I was not permitted to use it during the summer after 9pm, because their schedule required me to be in bed and ready to sleep by 9pm, even on weekends.)
But God brought a wondrous experience out of this for me.
Thanks again for the comment.
Starward