An abandoned derelict believable chapel.
As if built by disrepair itself.
The dome's tiles
a perforated shawl thrown
over the hoary hump of its uplift.
Τhe small windows hang
somewhat crookedly on the wall
like icons moved from faith's straightness
by an earthquake.
by an earthquake.
Stained glass composed of
cracked drops from a battered rain.
Would sanctity still live inside it,
fed only from extinguished candles?
The amphibian door is locked
- it can live inside immersed in the darkness
while swimming also in the light outside.
On it, a small step
rests its back
begging for a little repair. It is broken.
And nature, which makes up to everything
that adores anything in its prime
and can't deny any favours to decay
repairs the step's crack
filling it colourfully
with nettles thistles mallows
bay leaves and prickly poppies.
And suddenly it becomes spring-like
cheerful picturesque optimistic, the terror
of our abandonment's disrepair.
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Personal notes:
This poem was published as part of the collection 'Greenhouse grass' (2005).
In this poem, Mrs Dimoula embraces the dual nature of life - of decay and prime, pessimism and optimism, light and darkness.
She describes a real or imaginary visit to a derelict chapel, 'revisiting' a common theme in her poems - abandonment. This abandonment may refer to someone being abandoned by others (perhaps by a loved one), to someone being abandoned by 'youth' (and therefore getting old and closer to death), or someone abandoning her religious faith.
For Dimoula, this abandonment is an unpleasant situation, a 'terror'. However, this terror is never absolute and is accompanied by small comforting components.
This duality is present in many of the poem's images: the weeds in the fifth stanza (the weeds that nature grows to 'heal' a broken step) are a combination of wild weeds that can irritate or have soothing qualities, or that can be visually pleasant or unpleasant; the door in the third stanza is described as 'amphibian' and embraces both light and darkness; in the fourth stanza nature is described as servicing both decay and prime.
Finally, Dimoula ends the poem by giving us an equal shot of optimism and pessimism by describing an image of a small repair (the weeds in the step's crack) against the broad 'terror' of abandonment.
Personal notes:
This poem was published as part of the collection 'Greenhouse grass' (2005).
In this poem, Mrs Dimoula embraces the dual nature of life - of decay and prime, pessimism and optimism, light and darkness.
She describes a real or imaginary visit to a derelict chapel, 'revisiting' a common theme in her poems - abandonment. This abandonment may refer to someone being abandoned by others (perhaps by a loved one), to someone being abandoned by 'youth' (and therefore getting old and closer to death), or someone abandoning her religious faith.
For Dimoula, this abandonment is an unpleasant situation, a 'terror'. However, this terror is never absolute and is accompanied by small comforting components.
This duality is present in many of the poem's images: the weeds in the fifth stanza (the weeds that nature grows to 'heal' a broken step) are a combination of wild weeds that can irritate or have soothing qualities, or that can be visually pleasant or unpleasant; the door in the third stanza is described as 'amphibian' and embraces both light and darkness; in the fourth stanza nature is described as servicing both decay and prime.
Finally, Dimoula ends the poem by giving us an equal shot of optimism and pessimism by describing an image of a small repair (the weeds in the step's crack) against the broad 'terror' of abandonment.
ReplyDeleteGeorge, this must be one of my favourites. As always, kikis metaphors are so beautiful in their precision. It's extraordinary thinking written quite subtly to the point that they seem like they may be easy to think of! "Perforated shawl", is particularly striking.
The question about sanctity and candles is very despairing and harsh to the church. But then it softens, as you also describe, by the time the poem ends and that's very calming to read.
I cannot read this without remembering the Venetian ruins in Cyprus. This all rings so true. I feel like I have just woken up after a gorgeous dream.