"Parable" by Louise Glück [Introduced by Thomas Moody]

Last Saturday’s referendum to alter Australia’s constitution to recognize the First Peoples of Australia by establishing a body called the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Voice failed to pass. It is, I feel, a devastating and profoundly sad outcome that cuts to the very soul of the nation. Indigenous leaders have called for a week of silence to mourn the result, a result that can only be viewed as Australia's latest rejection of our First Peoples’ rightful place within their country, and I want to honor this request by not posting an Australian poet today. 

Rather, I would like to pay my respects to the great Louise Glück. “Parable” is the opening poem of Faithful and Virtuous Night (2014), a favorite collection of mine. The poem captures the state of futility we too often experience in our shared existence, a condition that can be overwhelming at times like these, when shadows appear to be falling upon all corners of the world.

 

Parable

 

First divesting ourselves of worldly goods, as St. Francis teaches,

in order that our souls not be distracted

by gain and loss, and in order also

that our bodies be free to move

easily at the mountain passes, we had then to discuss

whither or where we might travel, with the second question being

should we have a purpose, against which

many of us argued fiercely that such purpose

corresponded to worldly goods, meaning a limitation or constriction,

whereas others said it was by this word we were consecrated

pilgrims rather than wanderers: in our minds, the word translated as

a dream, a something-sought, so that by concentrating we might see it

glimmering among the stones, and not

pass blindly by; each

further issue we debated equally fully, the arguments going back and forth,

so that we grew, some said, less flexible and more resigned,

like soldiers in a useless war. And snow fell upon us, and wind blew,

which in time abated — where the snow had been, many flowers appeared,

and where the stars had shone, the sun rose over the tree line

so that we had shadows again; many times this happened.

Also rain, also flooding sometimes, also avalanches, in which

some of us were lost, and periodically we would seem

to have achieved an agreement; our canteens

hoisted upon our shoulders, but always that moment passed, so

(after many years) we were still at that first stage, still

preparing to begin a journey, but we were changed nevertheless;

we could see this in one another; we had changed although

we never moved, and one said, ah, behold how we have aged, traveling

from day to night only, neither forward nor sideward, and this seemed

in a strange way miraculous. And those who believed we should have a purpose

believed this was the purpose, and those who felt we must remain free

in order to encounter truth, felt it had been revealed.

Comments

[Emily Fragos]

Faithful and Virtuous Night, Louise Gluck's sublime work from 2014, is also one of my favorites. The prose poems within its pages are astounding. I think my favorite is the austere, sorrowful, beautiful "Utopia," although I hesitate to choose one book or one poem over another, when it comes to this great, pure poet's creations.

[Thin Rand]

It's understandable to feel a deep sense of loss and sadness following the outcome. Recognizing the significance of this moment and honoring the call for silence is a meaningful way to show respect.