Franz Wright explores the possibilities and the challenges of religious life (and its relationship to poetry) as almost no one else writing today. We often meet him in church, as in this poem from the collection Wheeling Motel.
My Pew
I love this
window
way in the back
in early gentian morning
down which light’s long
labyrinthine whispers
reach my ear, I
would like to describe it to someone,
to myself, my blind companion—
Why did I turn to this
forsakenness again?
Are You
just a word?
Are we beheld, or am I all alone? And
as that little girl on the psych ward
recently asked her father,
When I am very old
can I come back
home, and
will you be there?
Read more from Wheeling Motel
Also recently published: the paperback edition of Wright’s Earlier Poems
Are we beheld or all alone?
I love the biblical language and the quiet mystery of this poem. I felt a little mental gasp at the end line with the girl’s poignant question. Beautiful.
Thank you.
What a creatively outrageous name, “Wheeling Motel,” as though there could be anything poetic about either Wheeling [any of the several in the country] or a motel.
If I had a penny for everybody I might expect to know “gentian,” I wouldn’t expect to be able to purchase a first class postal stamp, but I too once used it in a poem {as yet unpublished}. I came across it first as “gentian violet,” an herbal stain used still in modern medicine as well as a swab against bacteria and fungus. My own mind created a bridge between the fungicide property and the cleansing properties of a new morning.
Surely you can appreciate the complex synaesthesia of “light’s long labyrinthine whispers” in which visual ["light"], spacial/tactile ["long labyrinthine"] and auditory senses ["whispers"] are melded.
A damned humbling experience, reading that, but I can’t wait to share this with my friends.
I loved the word “gentian”. Unusual, but the vocabulary of poetry are its jewels. I thought of the beautiful colour of a dawn sky, the serenity that pale blue can give us.
The last two verses, however, made me feel desolate, close to physical weeping.
Like others who commented in this forum, I also loved the word “gentian” for its sound. Its similarity to the word gentle gives a softness to the beginning of the poem. For fun I checked out wikipedia to see the lovely blue that gentian literally refers to, and it is a color that is often used in art for the cloak of the Virgin Mary so I would say it is a heavenly blue . . .
I also like the sound and the creative metaphor of the phrase “light’s long
labyrinthine whispers.”
I especially liked the choice of the magnificent word “beheld” for the word to describe how a magnificent God might view a person sitting in a church . . .
The word “forsakenness” carries a lot of weight, quietly alluding to the cry of Jesus on the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” An article at http://www.mccmanchester.co.uk/sermons/sermon_22mar09.htm indicates that when Jesus said those words, they also carried allusions that Jesus’ listeners would have connected to, so the allusions echo back through time . . .
a very thoughtful poem that took me on a thoughtful path as well . . .
You, Rose Blessing, have an insightful mind and a light touch. I have framed a copy of this poem and read it each morning when I re-enter my study to begin my writing. I recognize the question, “Why did I turn to this foresakenness again?” a little more readily each morning, but I don’t have an answer as yet.
“…..light’s long/ labyrinthine whispers/ reach my ears…”. The merging of sight and sound in this phrase is a trope for the ages. Is Mr. Wright the master poet we so badly need?