Poem of the Week: Music by Anne Porter
Music
When I was a child
I once sat sobbing on the floor
Beside my mother’s piano
As she played and sang
For there was in her singing
A shy yet solemn glory
My smallness could not hold
And when I was asked
Why I was crying
I had no words for it
I only shook my head
And went on crying
Why is it that music
At its most beautiful
Opens a wound in us
An ache a desolation
Deep as a homesickness
For some far-off
And half-forgotten country
I’ve never understood
Why this is so
But there’s an ancient legend
From the other side of the world
That gives away the secret
Of this mysterious sorrow
For centuries on centuries
We have been wandering
But we were made for Paradise
As deer for the forest
And when music comes to us
With its heavenly beauty
It brings us desolation
For when we hear it
We half remember
That lost native country
We dimly remember the fields
Their fragrant windswept clover
The birdsongs in the orchards
The wild white violets in the moss
By the transparent streams
And shining at the heart of it
Is the longed-for beauty
Of the One who waits for us
Who will always wait for us
In those radiant meadows
Yet also came to live with us
And wanders where we wander.
I love all kinds of music. I love music that tells a story. Slow meaningful songs. I love Sarah MacClaughlin, her music touchs my heart and my soul. I also love, Il Divo, Celtic Thunder and Josh Grobin. I play these cd’s when I just want to escape and reminisce.
They all sing songs that remind me of my past and my present, good times and bad times. It is wonderful that music and poems can do that. That poem I just read reminded me in some ways of myself. It was very nice.
Hi Janet. Thanks for your comment. I love music that tells a story, too. I’m glad you enjoyed the poem.
I love many kinds of music but it is the music itself that most often moves me. Lyrics are nice, kind of aids at participation when one does not play an instrument, but the music is the thing. The closest I ever saw, in prose, was Cordwainer Smith’s “Under Old Earth” and the congohelium.
Thanks, Pierce. I will definitely check out “Under Old Earth.” I like to think that prose can be like music. At one time in my life I played flute professionally, and as a writer I am always working to capture the tone and rhythm of a story.
Hi Susan,
Lovely poem…reminds me of you and your wonderful soulful flute playing in the mezannine of Circular Church…it was such a gift to all of us who were there…also, if you haven’t seen August Rush, I would recommend it…it, too, resonates with this poem for me.
Hi Diana,
Great to hear from you. Thanks for remembering my music-making so fondly. I hope to get back into it soon. Yes, I have seen August Rush. I really liked it.