Just when the darkest season has finally taken hold of you, it is suddenly Poetry Week and the sun breaks through everywhere. Perhaps this relief is all the greater because we currently live in a time when imagination and soft forces are needed more than ever, and more and more people are realizing that the world must be more than just fodder for econometricians. Fortunately we still have the poetry.
The nice thing about verses is, among other things, that they draw attention to what is sometimes in danger of being overlooked. Last week I attended a poetry evening where I heard the Flemish poet Ruth Lasters recite her poem ‘Fetish’, from the collection Tiger bread. In it, someone at the fair looks at such a grab machine, but instead of a plush eggplant or a Rolex made of papier-mâché, the machine appears to contain prizes that symbolize a new beginning, such as “newly milled front door keys, garters from/remarriages”, medals obtained from the AA, diplomas obtained during detention, it’s all there. The narrator then sighs that she would prefer a neighborhood in which the residents live at least three times. started all over again.
Hearing Lasters recite this poem made me think of everything that went wrong in my own life, things that I still blame myself on bad days. Such as that six months of study that I lost due to depression or that one job where I didn’t find my way. Suddenly, a handful of lines allowed me to reflect on the studies I did complete and the work I can now do.
Podiums of words
At some point we all know that it should not be about failure, but about getting back on track. But we (I) think so little about that that apparently a poem had to be written to remind us of that. Sometimes we (I) are just so busy punishing ourselves for what didn’t work out, that we forget how wonderful it is that we still knocked the dust off our knees and got up again.
This realization was a welcome gift last week, in the winter injury time. A poem that whispers to you that in every new attempt lies the seed of a triumph. And to think that until Thursday, poetry will still be celebrated throughout the country, and small podiums of words will be built everywhere for what we sometimes lost sight of.
All kinds of odes to those who manage to persevere even when life is against them.
Who continuously believe that spring will one day come again.
The journalistic principles of NRC
