Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

In "The Poet Goes About Her Business", Linda Gregg weaves a somber and reflective narrative that navigates themes of memory, loss, and the interplay of beauty and darkness. The poem, dedicated to Michele, a young girl who passed away, begins with a stark statement that encapsulates the poet's engagement with mortality and the haunting presence of the past.

Michele has become another dead little girl. An easy poem. Instant Praxitelean. Instant seventy-five year old photograph of my grandmother when she was a young woman with shadows I imagine were blue around her eyes.

The poem opens with an unflinching acknowledgment of death, capturing the weight of Michele's loss in a direct and almost clinical manner. The reference to Praxiteles, an ancient Greek sculptor known for his delicate and idealized representations of the human form, juxtaposes the harsh reality of death with the enduring beauty of art. This comparison to a photograph of the poet’s grandmother further underscores the passage of time and the layers of memory that influence perception. The beauty of it. Such guarded sweetness. What a greed of bruised gardenias.

Gregg emphasizes the paradoxical beauty found in sorrow. The "guarded sweetness" suggests a fragility and a protective layer around the pain, while "bruised gardenias" evoke an image of delicate beauty marred by injury. This duality is central to the poem’s exploration of how beauty and suffering are intertwined. Oh Christ, whose name rips silk, I have seen raw cypresses so dark the mind comes to them without color. Dark on the Greek hillside. Dark, volcanic, dry and stone.

The invocation of Christ introduces a religious dimension, associating divine suffering with the poet's personal grief. The image of "raw cypresses" on a Greek hillside—trees traditionally associated with mourning—conveys a profound sense of loss. The landscape, described as "volcanic, dry and stone," mirrors the emotional barrenness that accompanies such loss.

Where the oldest women of the world are standing dressed in black up in the branches of fig trees in the gorge knocking with as much quickness as their weakness will allow. Weakness which my heart must not confuse with tenderness.

The depiction of old women dressed in black, laboring in fig trees, brings a timeless quality to the scene, highlighting the persistence of life and duty even in the face of weakness. The poet cautions against conflating weakness with tenderness, suggesting that resilience and strength can coexist with vulnerability. And on the other side of the island a woman walks up the path with a burden of leaves on her head, guiding the goats with sounds she makes up, and then makes up again.

This passage contrasts with the previous one, presenting a woman whose actions are creative and adaptive. The sounds she invents to guide the goats symbolize the improvisational nature of life and the human capacity to create meaning and direction amidst uncertainty. The other darkness is easy: the men in the dreams who come in together to me with knives. There are so many traps, and many look courageous. The body goes into such raptures of obedience.

The "other darkness" refers to the internal fears and nightmares that haunt the poet. The men with knives represent the lurking dangers and the pervasive sense of threat that can invade one’s consciousness. The body’s "raptures of obedience" suggest a paradoxical surrender to these fears, revealing the complex interplay between vulnerability and courage.

But the huge stones on the desert resemble nobody’s mother. I remember the snake. After its skin had been cut away, and it was dropped it started to move across the clearing. Making its beautiful waving motion. It was all meat and bone. Pretty soon it was covered with dust. It seemed to know exactly where it wanted to go. Toward any dark trees.

The final lines of the poem return to nature and the stark imagery of the desert. The stones, indifferent and impersonal, contrast with the nurturing figure of a mother. The image of the snake, shedding its skin and moving forward, embodies a powerful symbol of transformation and resilience. Despite being stripped down to its essence, the snake moves purposefully towards the darkness, suggesting an instinctual drive to survive and seek refuge.

"The Poet Goes About Her Business" is a profound meditation on loss, memory, and the enduring search for meaning. Through vivid imagery and a contemplative tone, Gregg navigates the intersections of beauty and pain, resilience and vulnerability, capturing the essence of human experience in the face of mortality.

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