Thursday, November 13, 2014

Lost voices

I've been spending a lot of time this week thinking about how sad it makes me that Jay's voice has been silenced, both in the literal sense of never hearing him speak to me again, and in the metaphorical sense of him never creating new stories. This line of thought has driven me to tears again and again.

Last night, I was enjoying listening to music. I started out shuffling Rush on my iPod, then was seized by a desire to listen to Big Country, who I haven't listened to in  quite a while. And I was enjoying myself quite nicely, until I realized that I was listening to another lost voice. The band's singer committed suicide in 2001 (see my post here for previous thoughts on this).

Sitting on the sofa, I burst into tears.

So here am I, grieving for all the lost voices in the world.

1 comment:

  1. Elegy
    Edna St. Vincent Millay

    Let them bury your big eyes
    In the secret earth securely,
    Your thin fingers, and your fair,
    Soft, indefinite-colored hair,–
    All of these in some way, surely,
    From the secret earth shall rise;
    Not for these I sit and stare,
    Broken and bereft completely;
    Your young flesh that sat so neatly
    On your little bones will sweetly
    Blossom in the air.

    But your voice,–never the rushing
    Of a river underground,
    Not the rising of the wind
    In the trees before the rain,
    Not the woodcock's watery call,
    Not the note the white-throat utters,
    Not the feet of children pushing
    Yellow leaves along the gutters
    In the blue and bitter fall,
    Shall content my musing mind
    For the beauty of that sound
    That in no new way at all
    Ever will be heard again.

    Sweetly through the sappy stalk
    Of the vigorous weed,
    Holding all it held before,
    Cherished by the faithful sun,
    On and on eternally
    Shall your altered fluid run,
    Bud and bloom and go to seed;
    But your singing days are done;
    But the music of your talk
    Never shall the chemistry
    Of the secret earth restore.
    All your lovely words are spoken.
    Once the ivory box is broken,
    Beats the golden bird no more.

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