Things Fall Apart
Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
-- William Butler Yeats
Though many miles and a few states away from hurricane Katrina, I have seen her portents and stood in silent wonder. Mostly at the clouds. The clouds are so dark, so full, so foreboding. It's not even imaginative to compare myself to them --it's so obvious and pedestrian that I immediately reject them outright. I disdain and dismiss the metaphors as they came to my mind and my hands. They will not be legitimized here, I am a better writer than that. But yes, the clouds. There has also been something on the wind, in the breeze, especially at twilight, it seems. You could tell something of great magnitude was about to happen, somewhere.
That is where the more sophisticated metphors and similes presented themselves, but not always being at my most attentive or vigilant, I did not recognize them for what they were, nor did I understand what they were trying to tell me. Yes, Katrina did tremendous damage in New Orleans. I was stationed there years ago and had to evac to Memphis to get out of harm's way. But silly me, the true storm is right here on your own doorstep, in your own yard, in your own home. I am about to go through the wringer, perhaps lose all of my possessions, my friends, my family, perhaps my life. If I do not live to see 35, so be it. I will not meet my appointed end in a state of hysteria or frenzy. If my life is the Titanic, I'm probably going to be like one of those fools who died playing their instruments, trying to calm the others (and themselves) in the carnage. I cannot go into detail right now, but it looks like things are definitely falling apart. The center is not holding. And there doesn't seem to be much I can do about it. If I do survive this, I do have a couplet from Octavia Butler to give me a little hope.
In order to rise from its ashes
A phoenix first must burn.
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
-- William Butler Yeats
Though many miles and a few states away from hurricane Katrina, I have seen her portents and stood in silent wonder. Mostly at the clouds. The clouds are so dark, so full, so foreboding. It's not even imaginative to compare myself to them --it's so obvious and pedestrian that I immediately reject them outright. I disdain and dismiss the metaphors as they came to my mind and my hands. They will not be legitimized here, I am a better writer than that. But yes, the clouds. There has also been something on the wind, in the breeze, especially at twilight, it seems. You could tell something of great magnitude was about to happen, somewhere.
That is where the more sophisticated metphors and similes presented themselves, but not always being at my most attentive or vigilant, I did not recognize them for what they were, nor did I understand what they were trying to tell me. Yes, Katrina did tremendous damage in New Orleans. I was stationed there years ago and had to evac to Memphis to get out of harm's way. But silly me, the true storm is right here on your own doorstep, in your own yard, in your own home. I am about to go through the wringer, perhaps lose all of my possessions, my friends, my family, perhaps my life. If I do not live to see 35, so be it. I will not meet my appointed end in a state of hysteria or frenzy. If my life is the Titanic, I'm probably going to be like one of those fools who died playing their instruments, trying to calm the others (and themselves) in the carnage. I cannot go into detail right now, but it looks like things are definitely falling apart. The center is not holding. And there doesn't seem to be much I can do about it. If I do survive this, I do have a couplet from Octavia Butler to give me a little hope.
In order to rise from its ashes
A phoenix first must burn.
posted by Jahan at 2:31 PM
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