A wistful ageing beauty

Bookmarking literature of poetry and war

This blog has a motto: Blogging the Beautiful ~ Searching the Sustainable ~ Reaching out in Friendship.  In short, I keep any political sound-offs for a particular blog of mine, The Network.  You are welcome to drop by and experience its quirky mix of social and political commentary.  I have chosen to share this report, though political, on this site because it is about librarians and books and, as a former librarian, I am a Library Lover (as you will see from the sidebar) and I share a librarian's attitude to the power of words, ideas, books, poetry, plays.

So it is with quite a thrill, I read about this political protest involving the promotion of Palestinian literature. While there is grave conflict in Israel and Palestine, commemorations have begun for the centenary of The First World War.  Because of this I am including a very interesting site, The War Poetry Website, which contains an archive of poems and poets of to-day and The First World War.

The Gate of the Year : The King’s Speech, Academy Awards, and the bookies’ odds #film #poetry

This post was originally published on The Trad Pad on  2 January 2011.  Happy New Year everyone ... particularly to those who did it tough this year.  Please take on board the thoughts of Minnie Louise Haskins

~~~~~~

Happy New Year! May the year be kind to you and bring you blessings, wisdom, peace, and prosperity!  The last day or two has exhibited some coincidence. Firstly, Hay Quaker published, in toto, the poem The Gate of the Year by Minnie Louise Haskins.

 Minnie Louise Haskins

Picture from here

I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year,
"Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown."
And he replied, "Go into the darkness and put your hand into the hand of God.
That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way!"
So I went forth and finding the Hand of God
Trod gladly into the night.
He led me towards the hills
And the breaking of day in the lone east.
So heart be still!
What need our human life to know
If God hath comprehension?
In all the dizzy strife of things
Both high and low,
God hideth his intention.

Perhaps readers have heard this poem, or part of it, before.  It was made famous by the Christmas Speech of King George VI delivered in 1939.  You can hear the actual speech – it is quite moving given it is made at the time of the first Christmas of World War II – here.

Picture from here

Secondly, I decided to get out of the house for the first time since  Christmas Midnight Carols and Eucharist at All Saints, Mitcham and go to see the much lauded movie, The King’s Speech. It is the story of the relationship between the Australian speech therapist, Lionel Logue, and King George VI.

The movie is being tipped as a frontline contender for an Oscar. In spite of competition from The Social Network in the bookies’ odds as set out here, it is hard to see how this movie could lose with its high proportion of former Academy Award winning actors.  The UK still produces the best actors – particularly in ensemble work as demonstrated in The King’s Speech – in the English speaking world.  However, it does an Australian heart good – particularly one coming from Queensland – to see and hear Geoffrey Rush mixing it admirably with such a talented cast. To think, this great man of Australian movies was growing up across Brisbane from me in the 1950s!
Those sitting around me in the packed movie theatre were clearly as impressed as I. 
I was however surprised at the ending. I don’t think, in such an historical movie, it is giving away much to describe the ending of this movie.  I thought the movie somehow would finish with the 1939 Christmas Speech. This is arguably the most famous, most remembered, and most quoted of all the King George VI’s speeches.  This doesn’t happen.  The movie concludes with the King’s Speech at the beginning of World War II.

Listen to the original speech here.

World Matters 2011 Writers - Missing Peace @ Montsalvat - 14, 15, 16 October 2011

Diamond Valley Oxfam, Montsalvat, ELTHAMbookshop

Present

The 7^th Annual

World Matters 2010 Writers - Missing Peace

14, 15, 16 October

Venue: The Barn, Montsalvat, Hillcrest Avenue , Eltham   

 The Great Hall, Montsalvat

Session 1 - Friday 14 October 7.00-8.30pm

Superb storyteller Elliot Perlman is known for Three Dollars, The Reasons I Won’t Be Coming, Seven Types of Ambiguity. He discusses his epic new novel The Street Sweeper dealing with memory, love, guilt, heroism, the extremes of racism and unexpected kindness.

Chair: Sally Warhaft, Journalist and Commentator

Session 2 - Saturday 15th October
10.00am: Registration and Morning Tea
10.15am: Welcome: Stephen Lavender, Diamond Valley Oxfam
10. 30am: A Noongar Voice

Miles Franklin, Commonwealth Literature Award and Premier’s Literary Award winning author, Kim Scott, shares his colourful, warm optimistic view of the indigenous heart of our country and the need to honour the languages in which we first learn to speak. Kim will discuss his recent novel, That Deadman Dance, and children’s picture books Noongar Mambara Bakitj and Mamang.

Chair: Morag Fraser
This session is supported by Nillumbik Reconciliation Group

12. 00pm: Lunch Time Launch:
The Boy and the Crocodile

Teaming up with artists from Arte Moris, a not-for-profit art school in Dili, East Timorese children have painted scenes from the Legend of East Timor, a parable about the kindness of strangers narrated in Tetum and English. Proceeds from the sale of the book go to the Familia Hope Orphanage.

 

This session, which includes lunch, will be held in the Great Hall and costs $15.00
Supported by East Timor Women Australia who will run 

a fund raising handicrafts stall at World Matters

Session 3 - Saturday 15 October
1.15pm: Growing Up

Listen to unexpected stories that emerge when cultures clash and the mix of identities that make up a life. Elaine Kennedy’s Waiting for a Wide Horse Sky details the plight of migrant factory workers in South Korea. Tanveer Ahmed’s Exotic Rissole is an irreverent, funny memoir spanning rural Bangladesh through to western Sydney, looking at the complexities of managing tradition with modernity.

Chair: Jane Sullivan, Literary columnist, The Age.

Session 4 - Saturday 15 October

2.30pm: Futility of war

‘The war’, wrote one of its fiercest opponents and 19th century diarist Charles Gerville, ‘was founded in delusion and error.’ Chief political correspondent for SBS, Karen Middleton, An Unwinnable War, philosopher-historian Ian Bickerton, An Illusion of Victory, academics Fay Anderson and Richard Trembath, Witnesses to War, present their views and research on the mythmaking, propaganda and the tensions between political and military decision .

Chair: Carole Wigg, Medical Association for Prevention of War

3.45pm: Afternoon TeaSession 5  - Saturday 15 October

4. 00pm: Family Disturbances

Novelists Tony Birch, Blood, and Francesca Rendle-Short, Bite Your Tongue, discuss the worlds without sanctuary where characters find the strength of innocence amidst violence and genuine evil. Presented within a world of obsession and trauma the writers ask whether any of us is immune to the forces of destruction.

Chair: Morag Fraser

 Session 6  - Saturday 15 October

5.15pm: Poetry for Humanity

This perennial and highly popular session at all World Matters presented by Adelaide based Friendly Street Poets Elaine Barker, Ros Schulz and Serbian born Jelena Dinic. These empathetic poets couple their concerns for humanity with great poetic skill and strong personal voices in their profoundly moving, sometimes dark, writing that quietly and at a deep level open up their subjects for reflection and contemplation.

Participating chair: Elaine Barker

6.15pm:Twilight refreshments

Session 7  - Saturday 15 October

6.30-7.30pm: Singing History

John Lander, former Australian Ambassador to Iran and Permanent Delegate to UNESCO, sings songs
that are personal musical reflections in situations of conflict and disaster including the Song of the Children of Chernobyl which world premiered in Minsk. John will be accompanied by one of Australia’s finest pianists
Matthew Field.

Session 8  - Sunday 16 October

6.15pm: Morning tea and Registrations

10.15am: Welcome

Stephen Lavender, Oxfam and Helen Coleman, Mayor, Shire of Nillumbik

10.30am: The Voice of Reason

Professor Ian Lowe, The Big Fix, Living in the Hothouse, pre-eminent scientist, environmentalist, cultural commentator and president of the Australian Conservation Foundation, thinks we have a chance, but we have to act now. Ian’s new book is an environmental and community call to arms – through logic rather than fear-mongering.

Chair:Morag Fraser
Supported by the Victorian Climate Action Calendar

Session 9  - Sunday 16 October

11.45am: Missing Peace-Spotlight on Sri Lanka

“We all have to take positions when the temple bells ring.”

A child soldier with the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam, Niromi De Soyza, Tamil Tigress, activist Jeremy Liyanage and photographer Michael Baranovic share their insights and the compelling need for freedom amidst oppression.

Chair: David Feith , Teacher,Globalisation, Monash University

1.00pm:Lunch $15.00

Session 10  - Sunday 16 October
1.45pm: Singing For All He’s Worth

Essayists Raimond Gaita, Arnold Zable and Morag Fraser pay warm and thoughtful homage to an extraordinary life and a late-blooming creativity that was as heroic as it was humble. Melbourne citizen Jacob Rosenberg, liberated from the Lodz ghetto lived to become a unique poet and writer of novels and memoir.

Session 11  - Sunday 16 October

3.00pm: Our World in Poetry

A good poem is one that the world can’t forget or is delighted to rediscover. Australian Poetry from 1788, is a landmark anthology of Australian poetry with over 1000 poems from 170 Australian poets, including translations of Aboriginal song poems, as well as short critical biographies. This afternoon we hear poets Geoffrey Lehmann, Ian McBryde, Emma Lew and Craig Sherborne.

4.00pm: Afternoon Tea

Session 12  - Sunday 16 October

4.15pm: Digging up a Past

Whereas it was once assumed that Australia was settled by humans only in the past few thousand or even hundred years, research dramatically proclaimed that in fact Aborigines had been living here before the human race inhabited the Americas. Among the individuals who proved that Australia did have an ancient history, Emeritus Professor John Mulvaney, AO, CMG has been the most persistent and successful. Digging up a Past is a lucid engaging story of Australian history coming of age.

Session 13  - Sunday 16 October

5.20pm: Banning Islamic Books

In 2005, a few days after al-Qaeda terrorists killed many people in the London tube, newspapers in Sydney began a campaign against what they said were terrorist books on sale in a bookshop in Lakemba. Shortly afterwards Attorney-General Philip Ruddock, attempted to get eight books banned by the Film and Literature Classification board. Richard Pennell, Pam Pryde and Emmett Stinson discuss the dire consequences of knee jerk reactions and laws that attempt to muffle dissonant voices.

6.00pm:Twilight refreshments

6.15-7.15pm: Raga Dolls Cost: $15.00
“ it’s good to be reminded of a mythical world of honour,beauty, optimism and even a little wit.”

The Raga Dolls Quartet, co-founded in 2000 by composer and violinist David Osborne and piano
accordionist George Butrumlis, has long championed such a world. Come and listen to their vibrant original new Australian music and retrospective reflections on an age where domestic music-making and small scale ensembles abounded.

Festival Pass: 

$60 includes 13 sessions, morning and
afternoon tea and twilight refreshments

 
Daily Pass: 

15th, 16th October: $30.00
Each Session: $7 unless otherwise stated
 

Students: 

$40 Festival Pass; $5.00 per session.
Lunch $15
Prepaid, early bookings are essential:
ELTHAMbookshop@bigpond.com
970 Main Road, Eltham 9439 8700

PLEASE NOTE:

Meera of the Eltham Bookshop has written to me saying: 

Please let fans of your site know 

that if anyone quotes your blog the cost for each session will be $5.00.

With regards,

Meera

Miss Eagle says:

Don't stand upon the order of thy booking

but get thee to thy booking now.

This program is tremendous.

If you don't believe me,

then you haven't delved into the links I've provided! 

elthambookshop@bigpond.com

970 Main Road Eltham

9439 8700

World Poetry Day - Dorothy Porter and Andrea Goldsmith #poets #writers#

Tweet

 Picture from here

To-day is UN World Poetry Day.

Let us take time to remember Dorothy Porter - arguably Australia's greatest female (or need we mention gender) poet in recent times.  Go here for a discussion about Porter's love poetry by her partner, Andrea Goldsmith.  

Andrea Goldsmith

Picture from here

  

The Monkey's Mask (A Mask Noir Title) 

 

Love Poems 

  

Reunion 

World Matters 2010 Writers - Disturbing the Peace @ Montsalvat -Oct 27 and 30 -31

Diamond Valley Oxfam, Montsalvat, ELTHAMbookshop

Present

The 6^th Annual

World Matters 2010 Writers - Disturbing the Peace

Oct 27  and 30 -31

Venue: The Barn, Montsalvat, Hillcrest Avenue , Eltham

Melways Ref: 22 A8

 The Great Hall, Montsalvat

Official World Matters Literary Festival Website

elthambookshop@bigpond.com

970 Main Road Eltham

9439 8700

Transfiguration - a festive re-creation

To-day is the Feast of the Transfiguration. Three years ago, the fruit tree beside my home office window was covered in blossom (the picture is from 2005) but my fruit trees have very few blossoms at this time and my magnolia seems to have blossom as a permanent condition since they have been there so long without flowering.
In the Northern Hemisphere, Easter coincides with new life in nature. In the Southern Hemisphere, Easter happens in Autumn when the leaves are falling and nature prepares for Winter.
I love the Feasts but, on those occasions when we observe those that are not Easter and Christmas, I think we talk about them in a way which does not give any depth to the experience. I think that, in the main, this is how the Transfiguration is treated.
The Transfiguration was a supernatural event intervening in the natural order of things. It was transforming and predictive of the new life to come. Just like the Southern Hemisphere is experiencing at this time. How wonderful then if people in the south of the globe could take this great season of the soul and transform it to mirror the wonder of regeneration that is happening in the environment. We could then experience both the transfiguration of our environment and of our spirits.

The Transfiguration Lyrics

The song is on this YouTube videa at approx 42mins

Wikipedia entry on the album, Seven Swans

Seasons of the Soul: Ash Wednesday 2008

THE LONG WATCH

I draw aside to-day:
into the quiet, the reflection
of the pool of life.

I watch the disturbance,
the stone of my being
cast into the timeless pool…

ripples moving outward
from the centre
of the sunken stone…

circular disturbances
of small circumference
enlarging to a fading edge.

The rippling of my life
is energy into stillness
moving beyond its entry point.

The ripples, equilibrium disturbed.
The still centre sinks
under the surface.

Rippling circular to centre.
Never a straight line,
never trajectory altered.

The disturbance continues
outward…
Until, far from its centre,
it ceases.

Brigid O’Carroll Walsh
Ash Wednesday 2008
6 February 2008
© 2008

Leunig: The path to your door

Michael Leunig is one of Australia's great cartoonists. Michael is a spiritual man and insightful in his art, his text, his comment. Miss Eagle is currently listening to Billy the Rabbit which the gifted Gyan has set to music. The CD comes beautifully packaged with a little book of the poems which have been set to music. Here is the last, but not least:

The Path to your Door
The path to your door
Is the path within:
Is made by animals,
Is lined by flowers,
Is lined by thorns,
Is stained with wine,
Is lit by the lamp of sorrowful dreams:
Is washed with joy,
Is swept by grief,
Is blessed by the lonely traffic of art:
Is known by heart,
Is known by prayer,
Is lost and found,
Is always strange,
The path to your door.

Anzac Day 2007

To-day is Anzac Day.

This is a significant day in Australian life.

All around Australia from the Australian War Memorial (below) to every tiny country community, Australian and New Zealand war dead will be remembered.

All around the world, Australians and New Zealanders will gather.

They gather for the Dawn Service in Gallipoli in Turkey.

They gather in Flanders Fields.

The troops in Iraq and every place on earth where there are Australian and New Zealand military personnel, there will be solemnity and memorial.

After the solemnity, there will be the traditional two-up game

"Two up" game in progress troops returning from service H.M.A.T. MAHIA

Museum Victoria Collection

When Australians remember those who died in the service of their nation, on Anzac Day, at the going down of the sun in RSL Clubs across Australia, the verse below is said as a sort of prayer, a testimony of sacred intent:

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning

We will remember them.

Laurence Binyon (1869-1943)

Into the Everlasting Arms

Each morning, I look across from my sunroom to the Dandenong Ranges National Park.

Sadness has come to my heart since news broke yesterday afteroon that two young women (unknown to me) named Jodie Gater and Stephanie Gestier were found dead high up in the park.

Reports indicate that Jodie and Stephanie, who had been missing for a week, had taken their own lives.

The tragedy of young lives cut short and the overwhelming sadness that must have engulfed their families haunts me.

What a society, what a world have we built for our young that they cannot feel secure, creative, and hopeful within its bounds?

Ten years ago, this very month, a young woman came to my home who I had never met before. I only met her for an hour or so.

One month later she was dead by her own hand.

The poem below was written then.

My thoughts and prayers are with the families and friends of Jodie and Stephanie.

These young girls/women are now in The Everlasting Arms.

PERCEPTION

How did I not see
the troubled heart and spirit?
Did I only look at you
to see myself
reflected back?

And if I
thought you carefree
was that only the perception
of my own comfort?

Why could I not see
through your body frame
to the pain
of old time’s torment
in your soul?

Eyes to see
a heart to understand
are what I need
to see the wounded Christ
in your life

For help or information visit beyond blue.org.au, call Suicide Helpline Victoria on 1300 651 251 or Lifeline on 131 114.

Sing a song of freedom,er.. sixpence

The following poem comes from The Peaceable Table.

In these times, many of us are considering the matter of cruelty free eating so it is apt.

It is a little long - but worth it.

FOUR AND TWENTY BLACKBIRDS

Sing a song of sixpence

A pocketful of rye

Four and twenty blackbirds

Baked into a pie.

When the pie was opened

The birds began to sing.

Wasn’t that a dainty dish

To set before the King?

The King got just the piecrust

And really could not say

The dish was very dainty--

For the birds all flew away.

The cooks and maids all chased them

‘Round the royal halls;

The birds just flew much higher

Within the castle walls.

One maid was in the garden

Performing daily chores,

She heard the noise and ran in –

But did not close the doors!

The four and twenty blackbirds

Flew out to open skies.

“The King”, they sang in merry glee

Will not eat blackbird pies!”

The King was very wrathful,

So foolish he had looked;

He vowed that every Blackbird

Would soon be caught and cooked!

The Queen was in the parlor

Eating bread and honey

She heard all this commotion

And thought is wasn’t funny.

She said, “Oh, sire, forgive me,

But I must have my say.

Blackbirds were not meant for pies –

I’m glad they flew away!”

“A bird was meant to soar high

And sing up in a tree.

A man is not the only one

Who wants to live all free!”

The King looked at his loving Queen

Standing brave and tall--

“Her Majesty speaks truly,"

He said to one and all.

It hurt my pride to think that

A bird defied a King:

But Kings and knaves and blackbirds

All share one needful thing.

He called for pen and parchment

And wrote a public order:

"Let none make blackbird pies

Within my kingdom's border!"

He called his palace workers-–

They gathered in the hall--

And then a very handsome plan

He told to one and all.

Now when the Blackbirds heard it

They all began to sing.

Everyone went right to work –

Yes, even the Queen and King.

They sawed and nailed and painted,

They worked the whole day through.

They made each bird a birdhouse

All bright and clean and new.

Each house was snug and cozy

'Gainst winter’s rain and snow.

The four and twenty houses

Were hung up in a row.

The birds were fed the finest grain-

And sometimes blackberry pie;

(This was just on holidays)

And it was made with rye.

Sing a song of sixpence

A pocketful of rye.

Four and twenty blackbirds

Fly free up in the sky.
--Betse Streng

The Pie of Life

Miss Eagle is a dedicated Leunig fan. There are times when the words of Leunig are the word of God into her life: pastoral, prophetic. To-day is such a day.

THE PIE OF LIFE

The pie of life

Is hurled into your face

Every day.

But that is no disgrace.

A life worth living gets splattered on your shirt -

And though you're shocked

And rather deeply hurt;

These pies of life

Which fly out of the blue:

You're made for them

And they were made for you.

Thank you, Michael Leunig, from the bottom of my heart. I needed that. This quirky verse and its wonderful illustrations are meditation, perspective, and encouragement.

Dandenong Show - and the Smithy

In a long ago schoolgirlhood, Miss Eagle loved the Henry Wadsworth Longfellow poem, The Village Blacksmith. She can't resist an opportunity to share it here:

"The Village Blacksmith"

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Under a spreading chestnut-tree

The village smithy stands;

The smith, a mighty man is he,

With large and sinewy hands;

And the muscles of his brawny arms

Are strong as iron bands.

His hair is crisp, and black, and long,

His face is like the tan;

His brow is wet with honest sweat,

He earns whate'er he can,

And looks the whole world in the face,

For he owes not any man.

Week in, week out, from morn till night,

You can hear his bellows blow;

You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,

With measured beat and slow,

Like a sexton ringing the village bell,

When the evening sun is low.

And children coming home from school

Look in at the open door;

They love to see the flaming forge,

And hear the bellows roar,

And catch the burning sparks that fly

Like chaff from a threshing-floor.

He goes on Sunday to the church,

And sits among his boys;

He hears the parson pray and preach,

He hears his daughter's voice,

Singing in the village choir,

And it makes his heart rejoice.

It sounds to him like her mother's voice.

Singing in Paradise!

He needs must think of her once more,

How in the grave she lies;

And with his haul, rough hand he wipes

A tear out of his eyes.

Toiling,--rejoicing,--sorrowing,

Onward through life he goes;

Each morning sees some task begin,

Each evening sees it close.

Something attempted, something done,

Has earned a night's repose.

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,

For the lesson thou hast taught!

Thus at the flaming forge of life

Our fortunes must be wrought;

Thus on its sounding anvil shaped

Each burning deed and thought.

Longfellow's smith is a worthy example. But this is Australia and THE iconic figure in Oz is Ned Kelly: he who, with the rest of the Kelly Gang, beat ploughshares into armour. Miss Eagle is a great admirer of the craft of the blacksmith so it was with great joy she came across Salty and his Ned Kelly Armour stand at the Dandenong Show.

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Australian Spring

To read "Australian Spring" click on the picture for an enlarged version.

You should then see an enlarged version with on it a little square with arrows.

Click this little square and you will find the picture is now readable.

It is only July, but - after some clear Melbourne weather this week and seeing wattles and jonquils and fruit trees in blossom - Miss Eagle feels as though Spring is in the air. We Eurocentric people of the Southern Hemisphere still rely on the distinction of the Northern Hemisphere seasons turned upside down. So officially, Spring does not arrive here until September 1. Miss Eagle believes that we should pay more attention to our own environment not just in the Southern Hemisphere or in our own nation but in our own locality.

Miss Eagle thinks that if we were sufficiently in tune with our environment there would be a name for what is happening now. And for lots of other seasonal changes as well, seasonal changes that may not happen for a period of three months but may only last for three weeks or six weeks.

What would this present season be called? The Harbinger? Newness? Please let Miss Eagle know what you think.

The poem, Australian Spring, by Australia's leading suffragette and face-on-the-five-dollar note, Catherine Helen Spence, is from the State Library of South Australia and reminds us of the attitude of transplanted Europeans. Things have changed a century later - but not enough. Generally speaking, we Australians have not come to terms with our land. We have not paid sufficient attention to what it can tell us. In fact, let's ask ourselves if we are listening at all.

We are still seeing things through the eyes of elsewhere, not the eyes of the native born.

Autumn is a-comin' in....

Mountview Road, Upper Ferntree Gully

Love in Autumn

I sought among the drifting leaves,

The golden leaves that once were green,

To see if Love were hiding there

And peeping out between.

For thro' the silver showers of May

And thro' the summer's heavy heat,

In vain I sought his golden head

And light, fast-flying feet.

Perhaps when all the world is bare

And cruel winter holds the land,

The Love that finds no place to hide

Will run and catch my hand.

I shall not care to have him then,

I shall be bitter and a-cold --

It grows too late for frolicking

When all the world is old.

Then little hiding Love, come forth,

Come forth before the autumn goes,

And let us seek thro' ruined paths

The garden's last red rose.

Sarah Teasdale

Zhivago 2 - Mary Magdalene, a true apostle

Mary Magdalen by He Qi, China

Miss Eagle is always stunned at how people view Mary Magdalene - and the extremes of those views to the extent that one has to wonder if they are talking about the same person. What has always peeved Miss Eagle though is her own view that the capital 'C' church has been so easily dismissive of Mary. Mary was there with the twelve but is never considered an apostle.

Yet Mary, in womanly fashion, provided nurture and resources for the work of Jesus. She made so much so possible. But above all where Miss Eagle is peeved to the limit is that Mary Magdalene was the first bearer of the good news of the resurrection, yet for 2000 years the capital 'C' church - with only very recent exceptions - has forbidden women the preaching of the good news officially within the its services. For Miss Eagle, Mary Magdalene is a true Apostle. She resourced the ministry of Jesus. She was constant during his crucifixion and did not go to pieces or to flight like the majority of the male Apostles. She was there to discover the empty tomb. In fact, that's the thing. She was there. She was constant. She was there for the action and there to pick up the pieces. A truly female story. One that many men never get!

MARY MAGDALENE
II

Before the Festival comes the spring cleaning;
Away from the crowd,
With myrrh from a little pail
I wash your most pure feet.

I feel for the sandals and cannot find them.
I see nothing through my tears
And the strands of my hair
Cover my eyes like a veil.

I have planted your feet on the hem of my skirt, Jesus.
I have watered them with my tears, I have wound them round
With a string of beads from my neck,
I have cloaked them in my hair.

I see the future in detail
As though you had stopped it.
At this moment I am able to prophesy
With the foresight of a Sibyl.

To-morrow the veil of the temple will be torn,
We will huddle together in a little group, apart
And the earth will sway under our feet,
Perhaps out of pity for me.

The columns of the guards will re-form
And the horsemen will ride away.
Like a windspout in a storm, the cross above my head
Will strain towards the sky,

And I will fall at its feet,
Silent and dazed biting my lips.
Your arms will spread out to the ends of the cross
To embrace too many.

For whom in all the world
Is your embrace so wide,
For whom so much torment,
So much power?

In all the world
Are there so many souls?
So many lives?
So many villages, rivers and woods?

Those three days will pass
But they will push me down into such emptiness
That in the frightening interval
I shall grow up to the Resurrection.

From Dr Zhivago by Boris Pasternak translated from the Russian by Max Hayward and Manya Harari. The Harvill Press, London, 1996

Zhivago 1 - Remembrance, bread, wine, friends.

At Jesus's last meal with His friends

he asked us to do what He did

and remember Him with bread, wine, and friends.

Miss Eagle fell in love with Boris Pasternak at the age of 17. She read his most famous work, Dr Zhivago - a wonderful novel whose prose reads like sheer poetry. This very Russian story covers the Russia of World War I and the Revolution. It is a novel of great spirituality reflecting the Orthodox beliefs that permeate, in spite of the efforts of Lenin and Stalin et alia, the world of eastern Europe. Tucked away in the back of the novel, under the title Zhivago's Poems, is a collection or cycle of 25 poems. Miss Eagle asks you to make yourself quiet and comfortable and take this poem from that cycle as a meditation for this day of remembrance, Holy Thursday.

GETHSEMANE
From Zhivago’s Poems

The turn of the road was lit
By the unconcerned shimmer of distant stars.
The road circled the Mount of Olives;
Beneath it flowed the Kedron.

The field tailed off
Into the Milky Way.
Grey-haired olive trees tried to walk the air
Into the distance.

Across the way was a vegetable garden.
Leaving his disciples outside the enclosure,
He said to them:
‘My soul is sorrowful unto death,
Stay here and watch with me.’

Unresisting he renounced
Like borrowed things
Omnipotence and the power to work miracles;
Now he was mortal like ourselves.

The night was a kingdom of annihilation,
Of non-being,
The whole world seemed uninhabited,
And only this garden
was a place for the living.

He gazed into the black abyss,
Empty, without beginning or end.
Sweating blood, he prayed to his Father
That this cup of death should pass him by.

Having tamed his agony with prayer
He went out through the garden gate.
There, overcome by drowsiness,
The disciples lay slumped in the grass.

He woke them: ‘God has granted you to live in my time,
And you loll about like this…
The hour of the Son of Man has
struck,
He will deliver himself into the
hands of sinners.’

Hardly had he spoken when from who knows where
A rabble of slaves and thieves appeared
With torches and knives
And in front of them Judas with his traitor’s kiss.

Peter resisted the murderers,
Struck off an ear with his sword.
‘Steel cannot decide a quarrel’, he heard:
‘Put back your sword in its scabbard.

‘Could not my Father send a host
Of winged legions to defend me?
Then no hair of my head would be touched,
The enemy would scatter and leave no trace.

‘But the book of life has reached the page
Which is the most precious of all holy things.
What has been written must be fulfilled.
Let it be so.
Amen.

‘You see, the passage of the centuries is like a parable
And catches fire on its way.
In the name of its terrible majesty
I shall go freely, through torment, down to the grave.

‘And on the third day I shall rise again.
Life rafts down a river, like a convoy of barges,
The centuries will float to me out of the darkness.
And I shall judge them.’

From Dr Zhivago by Boris Pasternak translated from the Russian by Max Hayward and Manya Harari. The Harvill Press, London, 1996