{"id":80,"date":"2010-11-19T18:26:30","date_gmt":"2010-11-19T23:26:30","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/?p=80"},"modified":"2010-11-19T18:26:30","modified_gmt":"2010-11-19T23:26:30","slug":"what-passed-at-colonus","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/2010\/80\/poems\/what-passed-at-colonus\/","title":{"rendered":"What Passed at Colonus"},"content":{"rendered":"

Seamus Heaney<\/em><\/p>\n

in memory of Czeslaw Milosz<\/em><\/p>\n

His instruction calmed us, his company and voice
\nWere like high tidings in the summer trees.
\nExcept this time he turned away and left us.
\nHe walked to where the stream goes underground
\nAnd a steep bank paved with flagstones
\nLeads down to a lintel in the earthwork.
\nAnd there he stood, studying what next.
\nBetween a stone cairn and a marble plaque
\nTo the dead of our late wars.
\nOther wars and words were in my mind,
\nAnother last look taken upon earth—
\nRoads shining after rain
\nLike uphill rivers<\/em>—so that I all but
\nWept for his loneliness.
\n                        He loosed the girdle then
\nOff his scarecrow rags, called for his girls to fetch
\nRiver water for him, find a place
\nWhere overhanging grass combed long and green
\nAnd dip their pitchers there. So off they went
\nAnd came with overbrimming vessels back
\nTo pour a last libation and to wash
\nTheir dear departing father, hand and foot,
\nPrepare his linen garment and do all
\nAccording to the custom for the dead.<\/p>\n

And when all was done, and the daughters waiting,
\nThere came a noise like water rising fast
\nFar underground, then a low blast and rush
\nAs if some holy name were breathed on air,
\nA sound that when they heard it made the girls
\nCry out, and made blind Oedipus
\nGather them in his arms. “My children.” he said—
\nAnd the rest of us felt that we were his then too—
\n“Today is the day that ends your father’s life.
\nThe burden I have been to myself and you
\nIs lifted. And yet it was eased by love.
\nNow you must do without me and relearn
\nThe meaning of that word by remembering.”
\nThen the waterfall of sound behind him grew
\nInto an overwhelming cavern-voice
\nShouting shouts that came from all directions:
\n“You there. What are you waiting for? You keep
\nUs waiting. It’s time to move. Come on.”<\/p>\n

And now he was a stranger. He groped in air
\nAs the daughters went to him, heads on his breast,
\nAnd he found and kissed their brows, instructing them
\nOne final time: they were to turn and go
\nAnd (these were his words exactly) not look upon
\nThings that were not for seeing, nor listen to
\nThings not for hearing.
\n                        And what he said to them
\nWe took again as meant for all of us,
\nSo turned away together when he turned
\nAway, with the king accompanying him.<\/p>\n

But after a few steps I and other ones
\nHalted to look hack. He was gone from sight:
\nThat much I could see, and against the sky
\nThe king had his arm up shielding his two eyes
\nAs if from some brilliant light or blinding dread.
\nNext he was on his knees, head bowed to earth
\nIn homage to those gods who dwell in it,
\nThen up again with his arms spread out to honour
\nThe gods on high, like a windlass being turned
\nBy every power above him and below,
\nRaised out knowledge into knowledge, sole
\nWitness of what passed.
\n                        No god had galloped
\nHis thunder chariot, no hurricane
\nHad swept the hill. Call me mad, if you like,
\nOr gullible, but that man surely went
\nIn step with a guide he trusted down to where
\nLight has gone out but the door stands open.<\/p>\n


\n(adapted from Sophocles, <\/em>Oedipus at Colonus, lines 1586-1666)<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Seamus Heaney in memory of Czeslaw Milosz His instruction calmed us, his company and voice Were like high tidings in the summer trees. Except this time he turned away and left us. He walked to where the stream goes underground And a steep bank paved with flagstones Leads down to a lintel in the earthwork. […]<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-80","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poems","category-4-id","post-seq-1","post-parity-odd","meta-position-corners","fix"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/80","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=80"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/80\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":81,"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/80\/revisions\/81"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=80"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=80"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=80"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}