Thursday
April 30, 2020
Spring · 6 entries
"quarantine" In the worst hour of the worst season of the worst year of a whole people
a man set out from the workhouse with his wife.
He was walking—they were both walking—north.
She was sick with famine fever and could not keep up. He lifted her and put her on his back.
He walked like that west and west and north.
Until at nightfall under freezing stars they arrived.
In the morning they were both found dead. Of cold. Of hunger. Of the toxins of a whole history.
But her feet were held against his breastbone.
The last heat of his flesh was his last gift to her.
Let no love poem ever come to this threshold. There is no place here for the inexact
praise of the easy graces and sensuality of the body.
There is only time for this merciless inventory:
Their death together in the winter of 1847. Also what they suffered. How they lived.
And what there is between a man and woman.
And in which darkness it can best be proved.
From New Collected Poems by Eavan Boland
a man set out from the workhouse with his wife.
He was walking—they were both walking—north.
She was sick with famine fever and could not keep up. He lifted her and put her on his back.
He walked like that west and west and north.
Until at nightfall under freezing stars they arrived.
In the morning they were both found dead. Of cold. Of hunger. Of the toxins of a whole history.
But her feet were held against his breastbone.
The last heat of his flesh was his last gift to her.
Let no love poem ever come to this threshold. There is no place here for the inexact
praise of the easy graces and sensuality of the body.
There is only time for this merciless inventory:
Their death together in the winter of 1847. Also what they suffered. How they lived.
And what there is between a man and woman.
And in which darkness it can best be proved.
From New Collected Poems by Eavan Boland
in image"quarantine"
In the worst hour of the worst season
of the worst year of a whole people
a man set out from the workhouse with his wife.
He was walking-they were both walking-north.
She was sick with famine fever and could not keep
up.
He lifted her and put her on his back.
He walked like that west and west and north.
Until at nightfall under freezing stars they
arrived.
In the morning they were both found dead.
Of cold. Of hunger. Of the toxins of a whole
history.
But her feet were held against his breastbone.
The last heat of his flesh was his last gift to
her.
Let no love poem ever come to this threshold.
There is no place here for the inexact
praise of the easy graces and sensuality of the
body.
There
is only time for this merciless inventory:
Their death together in the winter of 1847.
Also what they suffered. How they lived.
And what there is between a man and woman.
And in which darkness it can best be proved.
From New Collected Poems by Eavan Boland
In the worst hour of the worst season
of the worst year of a whole people
a man set out from the workhouse with his wife.
He was walking-they were both walking-north.
She was sick with famine fever and could not keep
up.
He lifted her and put her on his back.
He walked like that west and west and north.
Until at nightfall under freezing stars they
arrived.
In the morning they were both found dead.
Of cold. Of hunger. Of the toxins of a whole
history.
But her feet were held against his breastbone.
The last heat of his flesh was his last gift to
her.
Let no love poem ever come to this threshold.
There is no place here for the inexact
praise of the easy graces and sensuality of the
body.
There
is only time for this merciless inventory:
Their death together in the winter of 1847.
Also what they suffered. How they lived.
And what there is between a man and woman.
And in which darkness it can best be proved.
From New Collected Poems by Eavan Boland
in imageDo not be daunted by the enormity
of the world's grief. Do justly now.
Love mercy now. Walk humbly
now. You are not obligated to
complete the work. but nerther are
you free to abandon it.
- The Talmud
of the world's grief. Do justly now.
Love mercy now. Walk humbly
now. You are not obligated to
complete the work. but nerther are
you free to abandon it.
- The Talmud
foundations 7:45 (mild)
power hour 11 (spicy)
power hour 11 (spicy)
80 weeks ago. 80 weeks ago 80 weeks ago 80 weeks ago 80 weeks ago
in image80
casual
weeks
ago
casual
weeks
ago
