A taut line
stretched over the mad abyss.
Dark despair in shapes that shift
clamour at the heart.
Cold infects and preserves the dead,
squeezing out all thoughts of home.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Tightrope over Hell
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8 comments:
are you referring to the Al Sirat?
Hi Anon, you're an interesting person. Do you have a blog?
how did you come to that conclusion? i'm sorry to say that i don't have one. but you did not answer my question.
Rarely do poets give a definitive interpretation of what they write. Any poem has many possibilities of meaning, depending on the person who reads.
But if you would like me to be more explicit: no, I wasn't refering to the Al Sirat when I first scribbled it down; but it is a startlingly apt image. I didn't know about the Al Sirat until you referenced it.
I said you were interesting 'cos you made an interesting link.
I don't know about AL Sirat too, till now. But notice how it is also the "bridge to Paradise"...
mis_nomer, i hope i did not offend you by asking for the meaning of your poem. it's just that your poem described the bridge and hell so perfectly i couldn't imagine it referring to anything else. i guess that's what years of indoctrination can do you to you.
"a taut line" - the bridge is described to be 70 times thinner than hair, "the mad abyss" - hell is so deep if you take a camel and push it off the edge of hell it will take 70 years to reach the bottom (i guess at 1g), "cold infects" - hell is 70 times hotter than the hottest flame on earth and is also 70 times colder than the coldest temperatures on earth. i don't know what's the deal with the 70 multiplier but it sure scared the hell out of me (no pun intended) when i was taught this in school.
Hey anon, no no, I was not offended at all. I was very glad to have your comment. It startled me how much the tightrope I wrote about is like the Al Sirat actually. It is very strange...
Christians believe that Jesus Christ is the bridge to paradise. You've probably seen the graphic of the cross bridging the gap. To cross that bridge requires faith to believe that God will forgive our sins.
I wrote the poem to describe a certain emotional/ mental state. Perhaps you know what I mean...
I think the last line is the key to this poem: "squeezing out all thoughts of home." Remember Dorothy. There's no place like home. Home with your family (intentional or biological), home with yourself, home with God. Why are people always, always, running away from home and then complaining about being homeless?
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