Tag Archives: Virginia Woolf

To The Lighthouse

“What is the meaning of life?”
We ask, we ask, we ask.
Seeking one great answer,
The true face behind the mask.

If there’s one response,
There’s a thousand, of course.
Philosophized, preached or peddled,
So in that case, what’s worse

Than to take it from a novel,
That’s a century old,
About a disconnected family,
And a day trip put on hold?

Virginia Woolfe wrote that
The revelation never comes,
But in its place we watch for
“Daily miracles, illuminations.”

These “matches struck in the dark”
Show us the meaning of life.
No need for one great answer,
One solution to our strife.

That was Woolfe’s take, of course,
Add her to the thousands.
But her small sparks may be easier to find
Than big answers – hollow, if grand.

_____



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Mrs Dalloway

Past – present – future.
The clock chimes today and I hear it in Dublin in 1999,
As it sounds in a dozen other places.

I hear it on the Broad Walk in Regent’s Park,
Days before New Year’s, and in early December.

Looking onto Dublin Bay, it sounds over the wind
As I run on the sands, and as I stand to face a furious winter storm.

“Am I alive in all these places, at all these times, at once?”
I asked myself, on the day I finished “Mrs Dalloway’.

“Traces suspended, like fog in trees.
Echoes and marks on places and people?”

Maybe we do survive death, and linger on, awhile.
Until our echoes dissolve in the air.

_____


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