Dutch Elm Disease
By onemorething
- 2732 reads
Elms make good coffins
in their resistance to decay,
even though each tree, itself,
can struggle to survive.
We observe and accept so much
without the foundations of understanding:
it is said that you should not speak
whilst you dig a grave,
you should not look back
from a funerary procession.
You should not.
I don't know why;
only that Orpheus was grief-stricken
with regret, resigned to be riparian
in a longer song of sleep, hung
upon the notes of music, strung
to the roots required to grow
a forest of Elm. Still, the green
of love leaves as all things must
migrate to their own winters in the end.
I don't know why,
but this tree can perceive its tenants,
rally wasps, summon Saturn -
no mother to these sip-sap children
- expels them with repulsion.
You should not dream of death,
you should not depart a burial
by the same route that you arrived.
You should not.
I don't know why
there are thresholds that we keep
or cross; the Elm marks a passage alone,
is no arbiter of choices and besides,
alternatives narrow when one is stunted
from actualisation: this is a disease
of the unloving of a bark beetle, here,
only a jaundice of sorrow
can multiply amongst the living.
Image is of Orpheus from here: https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:DSC00355_-_Orfeo_(epoca_romana)_-_Foto_G._Dall%27Orto.jpg#mw-jump-to-license
Other images on Twitter:
https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Les_funérailles_d_Étienne_Chevalier.jpg#mw-jump-to-license
https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Constable_-_Study_of_an_Elm_Tree_-_c1821.jpeg
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Comments
I don't know why
but you are getting better and better. No, I do: it's practise making perfect, or as near as anything can get to that. You need to be looking at another collection soon. This is extremely good work.
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I can only feel sadnes for
I can only feel sadnes for the elm. such beautiful trees, then to be afflicted with the disease. Growing up as a child we had woods at the bottom of our garden and two elm trees stood proudly right outside our back gate, till the dreaded dutch elm disease got them, and they were chopped down.
You've reminded me that as we come to All Hallows Eve, I should remember those two trees and the pleasure they gave us.
Thank you for your poem Rachel.
Jenny.
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Thanks Rachel. I had no idea
Thanks Rachel. I had no idea about the water pipes of london being made from elm. Thanks for the link. I showed it to my partner, even he had no idea either. It's amazing the things that are discovered over time.
Again very interesting. I hope you enjoy the rest of my story when you have time.
Jenny.
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This wonderful piece is our
This wonderful piece is our Poem of the Week - Congratulations! It's also our Facebook and Twitter pick of the day - please share/retweet if you enjoyed it too
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A great choice for Poem of
A great choice for Poem of Week. Ewan is right. It is the practice, the craft, the hard work which results in such great results. And the digging down into your themes, nature and its relationship to our existence.
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Liked this very much, it
Liked this very much, it feels like a wheel going round, like the cycle of Life, which cannot go back. And your mention of leaves, again, to signify how ephemeral we are, our hopes and loves and fears.
Also, your comment to Jenny about water pipes, is strange, how undignified for huge beautiful trees to be made to hold sewage, yet now, to see the rich colour and grain in the photo from your link, is to be connected with a treasure of life that if it had not been used for pipes, would have disappeared under the wheel, rotted away.
Agree with Ewan, you must have enough great stuff for another collection.
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