Read "Sestina for Death": ysabetwordsmith

Read "Sestina for Death"

James S. Dorr has a poem, "Sestina for Death," up in Strange Horizons.

It's a pretty good poem -- I enjoyed reading it -- but it's also pretty typical of death-related poetry in America, despite the promising title. In other words it's more negative than postitive.

Death -- as an event, a part of nature, a step in a cycle, an archetype, a personification -- is a favorite topic of mine in poetry. But I am just not keen on vilifying something that ubiquitous and important. It makes an already delicate challenge harder to handle. Plus which, the spirits of Death get a lot of abuse, and I don't really approve of that either. Yes, there are times when death is bitter, and yes, it sucks to be parted from people we love. But there's a lot more to it than that, and few people in this culture ever see that. Mexico, on the other hand, has Dia de los Muertos, a festive occasion that brings the living and the dead back together. That's more my style. And you can see that in some of my poetry, particularly when I'm writing "for" or "to" Death -- the light and the shadows together, and a hand waiting at the threshold. Because somebody should say thank you.

ideealisme

August 31 2010, 21:44:27 UTC 10 years ago

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Dear Death,

Thank you for the following:
1. Preventing the planet from getting filled up with resource-hogging people and being hopelessly overcrowded;
2. Preventing me from having to see the sun burn out and the Earth being turned into a lifeless rock because I won't live that long;
3. Solving for once and for all the problem of having younger-looking skin;

Thanks. And a request. Can I be asleep when you turn up?

Not much love but with fearful respect cos I don't fancy seeing you any time soon,

me.

hugs

ysabetwordsmith

August 31 2010, 21:52:33 UTC 10 years ago

That was very sweet. Thank you.

Re: hugs

August 31 2010, 21:56:03 UTC 10 years ago

Something tell me it won't make Strange Horizons any time soon though. Mind you, after they published a story called "The Yeasts of Eire" which only equalled its ignorance of Ireland in its ignorance of breadmaking, I kinda parted company with them.