Monday
Irish state television concluded a recent program with a poem by Irish poet Derek Mahon. You’ll understand why when you read it.
The speaker is looking out of a window from what appears to be a sickbed. It could even be a deathbed since the speaker mentions (twice) that “there will be dying.” Yet death appears to be an afterthought compared to what he sees and what he knows to be out there. “The sun rises in spite of everything”—in spite of the things that drag us down, that is—”and the far cities are beautiful and bright.” How can one be disheartened given that “poems flow from the hand unbidden/ and the hidden source is the watchful heart”?
With such forces as work in the world, the poet can confidently assert that “everything is going to be all right.” This is not facile consolation but deep truth, uttered with conviction.
Everything Is Going to Be All Right
How should I not be glad to contemplate
the clouds clearing beyond the dormer window
and a high tide reflected on the ceiling?
There will be dying, there will be dying,
but there is no need to go into that.
The poems flow from the hand unbidden
and the hidden source is the watchful heart.
The sun rises in spite of everything
and the far cities are beautiful and bright.
I lie here in a riot of sunlight
watching the day break and the clouds flying.
Everything is going to be all right.
We are about to see death at a scale most of us have never experienced before. Let’s make sure we watch the day break and the clouds flying.
