Άνάθεμα (Anathema)

It’s never about birds in poetry;

it is about our inadequate,
marrow-filled bones that
weigh us down
reminding us of the immediacy
of the dust.

It’s never about stars in poetry;

It is about drinking from the night
As from the floodwaters of Noah –
Watching the Ark pull from shore
Without you. At least you
Will not die of thirst,
Those receding lights
Your final comfort.

From Jilly’s November “Casting Bricks”
Jilly in bold, my abomination follows.

25 thoughts on “Άνάθεμα (Anathema)

  1. Gasp! This feels like having the air sucked from my lungs – drinking from the night, drowning in the flood of the ages, the stars our only comfort in the vast flood. The stars in poetry – our excommunication. I’m left with questions (always a good thing!): the stars are our reminder that we are separated from the promise? Our comfort is to drink from the darkness in our separation from God? From knowledge of the mystery? Astounding writing.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Love the Greek. (Seminarian?) “At least you / Will not die of thirst, / Those receding lights / Your final comfort.” Nosaint is right… but not just a double meaning. Those receding lights — the stars or the ark? — Your final comfort — the comfort of a last look at the stars, or the last look at the ark as it heads for the horizon (“thank god they’re finally gone!”). All very well done.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Read the poem, read the comments, looked things up – interesting about anathema – but remain perplexed about the ‘you’ (You?) who wouldn’t die of thirst and the receding lights (must be the ark) being the only comfort? It makes me ache. It’s all Jilly’s fault!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks! Good questions! I’m not sure either, but I *think* “you” is the reader, who has become aware of his/her state of excommunication. Why that is so is left to you. The lights are the stars and the lights of the boat and maybe the light of God.

      Liked by 1 person

        1. For certain! I know what I wrote was horribly bleak, it is just that Jilly wound me up to write an antithetical “stars and rainbows and kittens” ending to her poem. Hopelessness ‘R Us!

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