I received a copy of Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass from an Internet friend while I was an undergrad. My friend was a Master's student in English at PSU at the time and planned to write his thesis on Whitman's influence on American poetry. I had never read Whitman other than a poem here or there in an anthology, so he felt it his duty to expose me to more of Whitman's poetry.
I began with bits of "Song of Myself" and it brought tears to my eyes. Whitman's poetry is so kind, so compassionate. He writes of his love for all human beings, regardless of age, rank, nationality, or any other distinguishing characteristic. But as I was in college and had plenty to read already, I didn't really get into it.
On a whim, I took Leaves of Grass to Sevilla when I went to study there. I only opened the book once--when I went to Parque Maria Luisa by myself one afternoon--but again enjoyed it. Again it struck me how compassionate and loving the personna is...how he years for deep connection with his fellow human beings...how he sees all the world as one family. But again I was busy, and did not make time to read more.
Since I remembered Whitman as being a comfort to me the last time I went to Spain, I brought him again this trip. This weekend I've been reading poems at random--"Salut au Monde!" "Song of the Open Road," "Song of the Answerer." Here is an excerpt from "Salut au Monde!":
You whoever you are!
***
Health to you! good will to you all, from me and America sent!
Each of us inevitable,
Each of us limitless--each of us with his or her right upon the earth,
Each of us allow'd the eternal purports of the earth,
Each of us here as divinely as any is here.
Again the poetry has brought tears to my eyes. And I recognize something else in it too, something new. When the narrator speaks, he is always alone thinking about loving people, never with people and thinking about loving the people he's with. Someone once told me that Whitman used to beat his wife from time to time. When I consider the contradiction between his poetry and this alleged fact, I can actually relate to it quite easily. I too have this thing inside me which wants to love all people, to be connected to all people, to accept everyone and be accepted. But when I go among people, it's too easy to become irritable and jaded. Too easy to feel my own needs are not met and to become wary and suspicious, not to mention bitter. I find myself judging people and distancing myself from them (because I feel judged and rejected) rather than accepting people and making greater efforts to connect with them. Here is another exerpt, this from "Song of the Open Road":
Out of the dark confinement! out from behind the screen!
It is useless to protest. I know all and expose it.
Behold through you as bad as the rest,
Through the laughter, dancing, dining, supping, of people,
Inside of dresses and ornaments, inside of those wash'd and trimm'd faces,
Behold a secret silent loathing and despair.
No husband, no wife, no friend, trusted to hear the confession,
Another self, a duplicate of every one, skulking and hiding it goes,
Formless and wordless through the streets of the cities, polite and bland in the parlors,
In the cars of railroads, in steamboats, in the public assembly,
Home to the houses of men and women, at the table, in the bedroom, everywhere,
Smartly attired, countenance smiling, form upright, death under the breast-bones, hell under the skull-bones,
Under the broadcloth and gloves, under the ribbons and artificial flowers,
Keeping fair with the customs, speaking not a syllable of itself,
Speaking of any thing else but never of itself.
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