“They I said it wouldn’t happen again,
a sight not to be seen for another __ years.
“My ears filling with expert voices
trapping the scurrying feelings
insecting in the inescaping
infecting the elucidating”
nourishing the swell
between us –
your eyes telling me
under the indiscriminate trees.
Which are as beautiful within the flood as without.
smiling in the sudden illumination…
It’s been a word on my mind for years. Well, not the word, actually. Because I don’t speak Portuguese. (And in case you don’t either: saudade)
But we all know its colours and its scents and its sounds. We all know where to go to find its vividestness. Perhaps, some kind of closet…
(And we all wish it were a word in English, because, I mean, Saudade!)
One of the things I love about CS Lewis…he can take a heartwrenching word like this one and give it resolution. Not by his own invention of course, but in his descriptions of Christ realities – whether he’s taking it to another heavenly/”far-off country”/Christ longing level in the Narnia series, (hidden in a closet, no less) …or in brilliant descriptions like this one The inconsolable secret.
I so love the word. I’d love to honour it in a poem. But I can’t. I’ve tried. I blame it on everything but my writing skills. And the experts tell us that if you try and it’s too hard, then you should give up… um, is this decaf?
Besides, as much as I love the truth in negative spaces, and torturing myself with it… I much prefer what Lewis has done…you know, reminding us of what Christ has done, is doing, will do: the consolable longing…
(*Note to self: I seriously need to learn another language…
*Note to you: I may still attempt the poem…just as a warm-up, there is this: nepenthe of nepenthes)
Photo credit: my husband
Compelled to her feet
He reminded her of the Garden.
It kept her walking…
Breathed to her healing
the Leaves’ Scent from the Garden.
piercing through dimensions
outlining her shape
the distant memory of tears
on the River drenched Fruit.
She was flying …
Photo credit: Chase Miller