Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

Derek Mahon’s "Lives" is a meditation on identity, time, and the fluidity of existence, using the poetic device of reincarnation to explore the persistence of human consciousness through various forms and epochs. The poem moves between historical, mythical, and personal frames, creating a layered exploration of selfhood that ultimately arrives at a contemporary moment marked by disillusionment and irony.

The poem begins in a mythical register: “First time out / I was a torc of gold / And wept tears of the sun.” The torc—a rigid, circular neck ornament from ancient Celtic culture—immediately situates the speaker in a distant, quasi-mystical past. The notion of weeping “tears of the sun” imbues this existence with divine or supernatural qualities, suggesting a time when material objects were not merely inanimate but imbued with spirit. However, this life is abruptly interrupted: “But they buried me / In the earth two thousand years / Till a labourer / Turned me up with a pick / In eighteen fifty-four.” The transition from poetic mysticism to an archaeological event underscores the passage of time and the idea that objects, like identities, are subject to discovery, loss, and reinterpretation. The tone shifts from mythical grandeur to a historical footnote, demonstrating how even the sacred can be reduced to an artifact.

The next stanza takes another leap in time: “Once I was an oar / But stuck in the shore / To mark the place of a grave / When the lost ship / Sailed away. I thought / Of Ithaca, but soon decayed.” Here, the reference to Ithaca invokes The Odyssey and the theme of longing for home. The oar, a symbol of journeying, is repurposed as a grave marker, suggesting that the speaker’s existence is marked by both movement and loss. The phrase “but soon decayed” emphasizes the transient nature of all things, reinforcing the impermanence that pervades the poem.

From the maritime world, the poem shifts to the craftsmanship of a Navaho rug: “The time that I liked / Best was when / I was a bump of clay / In a Navaho rug, / Put there to mitigate / The too god-like / Perfection of that / Merely human artifact.” This moment stands out as the speaker’s favorite incarnation, suggesting a preference for subtlety and imperfection over grandiosity. The bump of clay serves as a deliberate flaw in an otherwise perfect work, a concept found in various artistic traditions where a minor imperfection is introduced to acknowledge human limitation. The phrase “merely human artifact” further distances the speaker from divine aspirations, grounding existence in the humble and the handmade.

However, this period of contentment is short-lived, as the poem quickly moves to another violent rupture: “I served my maker well— / He lived long / To be struck down in / Denver by an electric shock / The night the lights / Went out in Europe / Never to shine again.” The mention of an electric shock and the blackout in Europe suggests an event of great historical consequence, perhaps a reference to the outbreak of World War II. The poem’s trajectory mirrors historical cycles of creation and destruction, with lives and civilizations meeting abrupt ends.

The final section brings the poem into the present: “So many lives, / So many things to remember! / I was a stone in Tibet, / A tongue of bark / At the heart of Africa / Growing darker and darker...” The speaker, overwhelmed by past identities, acknowledges the weight of accumulated memory. The phrase “growing darker and darker” suggests an increasing sense of disillusionment or existential exhaustion, as the imaginative play of past lives gives way to a more cynical present.

The final transformation is into a modern anthropologist, a figure of detached observation: “Now that I am / An anthropologist / With my own / Credit card, dictaphone, / Army-surplus boots / And a whole boatload / Of photographic equipment.” This persona, equipped with the tools of academia and consumer culture, stands in stark contrast to the mystical, artistic, and elemental past selves. The anthropologist is no longer an integrated part of the world but an observer cataloging it, a shift from experience to analysis. The line “I know too much / To be anything any more” suggests that intellectual knowledge has supplanted a more instinctual or spiritual way of being, leading to a state of existential detachment.

The poem ends on a note of skepticism toward certainty: “And if in the distant / Future someone / Thinks he has once been me / As I am today, / Let him revise / His insolent ontology / Or teach himself to pray.” The phrase “insolent ontology” critiques any rigid or arrogant conception of existence, rejecting the idea that identity is fixed or fully comprehensible. The closing suggestion to “teach himself to pray” introduces a note of irony—after a journey through multiple incarnations, the speaker suggests that the only response to the mystery of existence might be humility and reverence rather than intellectual mastery.

Structurally, the poem’s episodic nature mirrors its theme of transformation, moving fluidly between past and present without rigid demarcations. The use of short, clipped lines enhances the impression of time passing rapidly, while the variation in historical and cultural references creates a sense of vast, interconnected experience.

Ultimately, "Lives" explores the tension between permanence and transience, between mystical continuity and historical rupture. Mahon presents identity as something fluid and iterative, challenging conventional notions of selfhood. By the end, the poem suggests that while knowledge may bring detachment, the need for wonder—perhaps even faith—remains. The multiplicity of selves in the poem is not just a poetic conceit but a meditation on how we understand personal and collective history, how we carry the past within us even as we are continually reshaped by the present.

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