What I love about this poem is how easily it flows. You don’t have to be a Mississippian, a historian, a scholar or even a poetry fan to appreciate the smooth and simple beauty of Pilgrimage.
Sometimes we get so busy with the day to day ritual that we forget to read and that is a shame. It is also another reason to appreciate National Poetry Month. It serves as a reminder (at least for me) to seek out new poetry, to step away from the keyboard and open a book or a webpage or an audio device and go along for the ride if only for a few moments. This was certainly a ride worth taking.
Pilgrimage
by Natasha Trethewey
Here, the Mississippi carved
its mud-dark path, a graveyard
for skeletons of sunken riverboats.
Here, the river changed its course,
turning away from the city
as one turns, forgetting, from the past—
the abandoned bluffs, land sloping up
above the river’s bend—where now
the Yazoo fills the Mississippi’s empty bed.
Here, the dead stand up in stone, white
marble, on Confederate Avenue. I stand
on ground once hollowed by a web of caves;
they must have seemed like catacombs,
in 1863, to the woman sitting in her parlor,
candlelit, underground. I can see her
listening to shells explode, writing herself
into history, asking what is to become
of all the living things in this place?
This whole city is a grave. Every spring—
Pilgrimage—the living come to mingle
with the dead, brush against their cold shoulders
in the long hallways, listen all night
to their silence and indifference, relive
their dying on the green battlefield.
At the museum, we marvel at their clothes—
preserved under glass—so much smaller
than our own, as if those who wore them
were only children. We sleep in their beds,
the old mansions hunkered on the bluffs, draped
in flowers—funereal—a blur
of petals against the river’s gray.
The brochure in my room calls this
living history. The brass plate on the door reads
Prissy’s Room. A window frames
the river’s crawl toward the Gulf. In my dream,
the ghost of history lies down beside me,
rolls over, pins me beneath a heavy arm.
After quite sometime have I come across a brilliant post like this one….your journey is unimaginably enticing….keep up d great work
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Aww. Thank you Debaroon.
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This is the kind of piece that makes me grateful I appreciate poetry, yet despair that I’ll ever write anything that good. It’s beautiful, Janna, thanks for posting it.
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Do not despair my Zen friend. I believe you can and will. Ms.Trethewey draws from her heart and experience and writes what she knows. I see that same quality in you.
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Thank you, Janna. I needed to hear that today. Say Bonjour to the little lizard for me 😉
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You are welcome. 🙂
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Wow…that IS really a great poem, Janna. Thanks so much for finding and sharing that.
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Reblogged this on Sued51's Blog and commented:
I love National Poetry Month because people share wonderful poems I might now find on my own. Like this one shared by my friend, Janna…
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Thank YOU Sue and you are welcome.
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Reblogged this on Simpklu and commented:
Natasha Trethewey jis the current United Sates Poet Laureate.
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wow, thanks for sharing this.
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You are totally welcome.
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This is beautiful
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I agree. Thanks for stopping by.
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