Monday Morning Musings:
“The purpose of theatre is to bring into public that which is kept offstage. . .”
Paula Vogel, The New Yorker, May 12, 2017.
“We have a story we want to tell you . . .About a play. A play that changed my life. Every night we tell this story—but somehow I can never remember the end. … No matter. I can remember how it begins. It all starts with this moment—”
From Paula Vogel, Indecent
About that breeze
carrying the scent of flowers
in the rain—
now rust-tinged with blood–
does it haunt you?
Listen–
the sound of ghosts walking
through ashes, whispering, whispering
the sound of pain
the sound of love and desire
carried through time
***
We walk
(through, around, over
ghosts)
steps echoing
a city filled
with art and history
there a bridge
named for a poet
(who lived in Camden)
who celebrated history
and nature
human bodies and love
(he spoke of that
which was not spoken)
indecent, some said
unnamed the fear
of love
is love is love is love is love
Celebrating Walt Whitman’s 200th with homemade pizza and Auburn Road’s Eidolon wine
We walk after
seeing my mother
her body dimmed,
no longer so electric
but still pulsing light
generates the warmth
the air, the sky
on a beautiful spring
we eat outside
where souls once gathered
celebrating god and man
and new beginnings
(blinks of time)
the ghosts gather
telling the story
over and over
knowing how it begins,
never knowing how it ends
the play begins with ashes
that later return
but remember the rain scene
(that rain scene!)
that glorious love
passionate and innocent
that shocked—
indecent they said,
that play, and this play
about it–
this love song to Yiddish theater,
to theater,
to the light within us
to memory
to time
so relevant the themes again
immigrants demonized,
and we more polarized
and there is fear
all around
(like ghosts)
twelve more dead,
we shake our heads,
go on with life
(with thoughts and prayers)
but the dead stay dead
and the ghosts whisper,
remember. . .
Yet, we create
and generate
(our bodies electric)
music,
art, and poetry
channeling muses
and spirits
remembering
(the rain scene)
the scent of rain
the light through the trees
and love–
there is love
all around
and friendships
that stay true
through births and deaths
generating
regenerating
remembering
this moment
to the next
always how it begins,
but never how it ends–
the lights go down,
the lights come again,
the ashes fall,
the ghosts whisper,
remember this moment,
remember this
It was a busy weekend: another mass shooting, a celebration, visiting my mom, seeing Indecent at the Arden (I love this play), walks, a bridal shower. We also saw Book of Mormon, the Broadway touring company, but I couldn’t fit that in. We’ve seen it before, and it enjoyed seeing it again.
