Lucretius, or From the Shore

Well, it's the first full day of Summer, and the signs are in the air. I've finished my grading, the sun is up and shining at 9:30 in the morning, and nothing sounds more inviting right now than spending some time on the water. This next poem has little to do with anything, simply because I couldn't think of anything else to post at the moment; this weather is making me anxious to leave. A little background, though, for those of you who aren't familiar with Lucretius. He was an Epicurean philosopher who posited that the only way for a man to be truly happy was to sever all emotional connections to the world. According to him, such things as wives and children should be treated no differently (emotionally speaking, that is; not physically) than a vase, which is neither treasured nor, when it breaks, mourned. Sorrow comes from attachment, and so happiness must come from distance. I never really bought into this, but it's certainly a brave and different take on human happiness. I wrote this poem as an accompaniment to one of his examples, in which a man, standing on the shore and watching a ship sinking, feels neither fear nor sadness, only relief that he is not one of those who will die. It's a little longer, and I generally find it harder to write good long poetry than good short poetry, but I tried.


Lucretius, or From the Shore

A perilous step led me here,
a rough and broken path,
along the chalky cliffs that rub the sky.

Above, the smoky storm clouds sheer,
below, the foamy wrath,
and thrust between the titans, two, am I.

The raindrops, thick, begin to fall,
the west wind heaves a sough,
as lightning, distant, dances in the air,

and through the fog, a ship mast tall,
upon a pitching prow,
appears with sail marred by rent and tear.

The crewmen, like so many ants,
run frantic on the deck
to bring the straining ship in to the shore.

Though courage not their labor wants,
yet none shall save the wreck
from sinking ‘neath the waves for evermore.

And I cannot but help be glad,
as on the stones I stand,
and watch the vessel flounder in the waves,

for though such human loss is sad,
safe am I on the land,
while other men go down into their graves.