‽istis wonders and reclaims: discoveries (weekending December 11th 2021)
Amid
climate turmoil and storms leaving some in the UK without electricity and everything that it empowers
political turmoil and storms leaving positions untenable or shaken, leaving many (the ‘us’ of ‘one rule for’) deeply saddened, angry but perhaps not surprised - and possibly leaving the clothes of Emperors (the ‘them’ of ‘another rule for’) (1) behind, but not at a party which may or may not have happened
increasing information about the potential impact of a virus’ variation and apparent necessary measures to protect...
....‽istis managed to find a haven in firstly an unexpected delight of a discovery and, secondly, a rediscovery for ponderance.
The discovery - came from a chance listen to the radio last Sunday (2), hearing about a poem that became a song interpreted by many and perhaps finding a most recent audience in the version by Rose Betts in the film ‘Justice League’, the Zack Snyder cut. (3) And ‽istis was captivated, nourished and encouraged to listen to many, many versions but is left wondering just how this song had passed by until now. If this could be missed, then what else may lie undiscovered? So, thank you Larry Beckett, Tim Buckley, ‘This Mortal Coil’, many others and now Rose Betts - for ‘Song to the Siren’.
Some of the words seemed to resonate with layers of current meaning and pause for thought:
‘Were you here when I was forced out? Now my foolish boat is leaning, broken lovelorn on your rocks’ - and images of children and young people and families on and in the Channel came to mind...
‘Sail to me, let me enfold you. Here I am, here I am, waiting to hold you’ - perhaps a statement and offer and pledge and promise of hope and compassion for anyone in distress or despair, echoing across time and place...
The rediscovery - came when sorting through papers kept and left by a proud parent. Another poem, penned very close to home; almost forgotten but now, here, offered humbly for ponderance during what some mark as the season of Advent, as they and even we wait in the hope that just perhaps, possible, maybe things could yet be different:
Massacred Innocence - A King of Kings’ Ransom - Too High a Price
‘I hold you again, my child
Not to wish and promise and bless and marvel
But to staunch and stem and retch and rail
At death, at despair, at desecration.
A thousand stars canopied your birth
Ox and cattle, wise men and shepherds
Passed by that night - that glorious night
And we rejoiced!
The blooded swaddling drips...
Your screaming ceased
Peace be with you
We have heard the tales across the years
Of sight restored and ‘wined-up’ water
Of mountain talks and tables turned
And of a criminal’s death.
The Son of God? Perhaps...
Caring little or less
A tear of shuttered memory returns
To when I held you, my child
So, so desperate that you might be saved
The blooded swaddling drips...
Your screaming ceased
Peace be with you
© Pistis
NB: further reflections and comments linked to this week’s theme and past blog
entries to be found on Twitter: replies, retweets (which don’t necessarily indicate approval, sometimes the very opposite!) and ‘likes’: @Pistis_wonders. ‘Follows’ and respectful comment and dialogue welcome...
For example: https://www.liverpoolecho.co.uk/news/liverpool-news/one-rule-one-rule-us-22401256
BBC Radio 4 'Soul Music' 4.12.2021 https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m00127bz
