April 24 - Like Our Bodies' Imprint

Like Our Bodies' Imprints

by Yehuda Amichai

Like our bodies' imprint,
Not a sign will remain that we were in this place.
The world closes behind us,
The sand straightens itself.

Dates are already in view
In which you no longer exist,
Already a wind blows clouds
Which will not rain on us both.

And your name is already on the passenger list of ships
And in the registers of hotels
Whose names alone
Deaden the heart.

The three languages I know,
All the colors in which I see and dream:

None will help me.

(Translated by Assia Gutmann)



Yeah, so I missed a day yesterday. Sometimes a breakfast and movie with a friend is more important than just about everything.

So I open up Chrome this morning to find a reason to write about a particular poem. My home page is BBC News, so first I see an article about the university police officer shot and killed during the pursuit of the Boston Bombers (which just makes me glad they didn't bomb a marathon in the Bronx, or we'd all just be confused). They are having a memorial service for him today.

Below that was an article about an 8th century minaret (a kind of bell tower for mosques) that was destroyed during the fighting in Aleppo between the Syrian government and the rebels. Of course, both sides blame the other for its destruction. In any case, the mosque was a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Well, what's left of it still is, I suppose. Really, the only reason this stood out to me was the mention of Aleppo, a city that comes up in "My Grandmother Washes Her Feet in the Sink of the Bathroom at Sears." It must be sad news for that family.

Sheesh, the Google Image results for Aleppo are a total downer. This is just from Wikipedia.

Hopefully, no one of Syrian descent will object to my immediately thinking of an Israeli poet. Actually, according to his Carolyn Forche's bio of him, "Israel's foremost living poet." Unfortunately, he died in 2000, so now he seems to be considered the greatest modern Israeli poet, though, it is said, much is lost when it is translated from its original Hebrew.

In any case, Yehuda Amichai is a major figure of international poetry in the 20th century. But that's not really why I bring him into this post. I think as Americans, we have not experienced the destruction of historic objects like older civilizations (certainly not the nuclear family Americans I so callously envisage). That being said, we sure love to play with the idea. How many times have you seen a destroyed Statue of Liberty in a movie? Also, have you seen any film by Roland Emmerich? That's his whole career.

Top two results before we see a flag or fireworks.

We love the idea of vengeance and resurrection. It's a great marriage of Old and New Testaments.

The Romantics dwelt on the idea a bit, what with Shelley's "Ozymandias" and Keats' "Ode on a Grecian Urn." Hell, lots of poets these days love talking about the Second Law of Thermodynamics (entropy), it's terrifying to think that all will be lost at some point, but comforting to think that includes all the mistakes, faults, and atrocities we commit and remember today.