Poetry Makes Might

In light of the violence and destruction in Oslo today, I wanted to post a poem that speaks to the absolute and enduring might of loving another person, even across lifetimes. This translation of a poem by Rabindranath Tagore is one of my favorite readings on any given day. In the belief that words are true power, that words create thoughts, and thoughts create reality what better reaction to violence than poetry read aloud at cribs and kitchen tables, in heatwaves and heartbreaks. Poetry whispered or sung might be the answer to life's unanswerable questions. Who knows? Given enough attention, poetry might have the power to make enough space in our hearts for peace--for might as expressed today causing the end of human life is an empty mouth; the abyss of an expressionless face. Be mighty in response, read poetry this week to yourself or anyone who will listen. Maybe start with this one:

Unending Love

I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times...
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,
That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,
In life after life, in age after age, forever.

Whenever I hear old chronicles of love, it's age old pain,
It's ancient tale of being apart or together.
As I stare on and on into the past, in the end you emerge,
Clad in the light of a pole-star, piercing the darkness of time.
You become an image of what is remembered forever.

You and I have floated here on the stream that brings from the fount.
At the heart of time, love of one for another.
We have played along side millions of lovers,
Shared in the same shy sweetness of meeting,
the distressful tears of farewell,
Old love but in shapes that renew and renew forever.

Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in you
The love of all man's days both past and forever:
Universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life.
The memories of all loves merging with this one love of ours -
And the songs of every poet past and forever.

~Rabindranath Tagore

From Selected Poems, Translated by William Radice