麻豆社

From Father Brian D鈥橝rcy, a Catholic Passionist priest:

When I was a teenager, I hated poetry with a passion. All those lines to be learned off, so much language that meant nothing to me and, worse still, all that ridiculous romance.

I don鈥檛 know whether it was poets or me who changed, but reading poetry is the now one of the most uplifting pleasures in life. Poetry and music unlock emotions I never knew I had.

My appreciation of powerful words grew when the songs of Kristofferson, Dylan and Leonard Cohen became my bible.

Some time ago, after he was honoured with the Nobel Prize for literature, Dylan delivered an address, to an invited audience, on the development of song-writing from the 60s on. A friend of mine who was there was amazed when Dylan began his talk by slowly and reverently reciting:

鈥淲ell I woke up Sunday morning/ with no way to hold my head that didn鈥檛 hurt/ And the beer I had for breakfast wasn鈥檛 bad/ So I had one more for dessert/Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes/And found my cleanest dirty shirt/ And I washed my face and combed my hair/And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.鈥�

Dylan believes that the palpable loneliness described in Kris Kristofferson鈥檚 Sunday Morning coming Down changed the boundaries of song-writing forever. It gave us permission to talk about common despair in language so raw it hurts.

The New England poet Donald Hall once had the difficult task of clearing out his grandfather鈥檚 attic. There were dozens of boxes of precious 鈥榮tuff鈥�. One box, however, was marked; STRING TOO SHORT TO BE USED. Hall got it immediately 鈥� it was a parable of how his grandfather treasured what others deemed useless.

I love Seamus Heaney鈥檚 poetry. He wrote 鈥榃hen All The Others Were Away At Mass鈥� about his mother鈥檚 last moments. He recalled his childhood days in their country kitchen, both silently peeling potatoes in companionable silence, the potatoes 鈥榞leaming in a bucket of cold water.鈥�

The family and priest 鈥榳ent hammer and tongs鈥� at prayers. But memories comforted Heaney more.

鈥淚 remembered her head bent towards my head/Her breath in mine鈥�/ never closer the whole rest our lives.鈥�

A powerful summary of a beautiful relationship.