The
Fire in the Song
He
said, “If you only stop singing, I’ll make you safe.” And he repeated the line,
knowing you would hear “I’ll make you safe.” - David
Whyte in his poem “The Fire in the Song”
There’s something about that line
that ran through my mind this morning as I contemplated the plight of our
society. If you only stop singing, I’ll
make you safe. I hear the words in Whyte’s voice and in his inflection, And he repeated the line, knowing you would
hear “I’ll make you safe.”
Whyte is talking about
creativity, but I am hearing the words to now mean something more. This year
has been a time of question for me as I’ve researched and studied certain
aspects of the past. A lot of what we were taught as history is now being found
to be untrue. People, who we were taught were heroes, often had a darker,
not-very-nice side. (The media, even before it was known as media, played up
aspects “they” wanted the public to know. We know that goes on today.) People
we were taught to look up to as having our best interests at heart, more often
than not were only following their own agendas. Yes, there are those who mean
to do well, but a lot of the times, the best of intentions goes by the wayside.
“I’ll make you safe” is a want in
all of us when we hear about the terrorism that goes on in the world, when
people kill for no good reason (that we can see) or when kids shoot up schools.
The media plays up the horror until we are afraid to leave our homes. We cry
out our fears and organizations are developed to make us feel safe. Mental
illness or mental instability is blamed. Drugs are used to control with often
horrible side effects. People are locked down, locked up, and locked in.
But do we really feel safe? I
can’t help but wonder if all the hype is just a ploy to still tongues. How do
we balance protection versus lack of privacy? With everything being done to
“protect” us (sounds kind of mafia-ish,) terrible things still happen, have
always happened. I don’t know the answers. What are we willing to give up to
feel safe and how much is really necessary?
Yes, I question. Yes, I am
afraid. Life has always been a big adventure in a way. You never know what’s
really going to happen. Even those with supposedly mundane lives can experience
a drastic change in a heartbeat. I used to swear that I would not live in fear,
but I can’t help it, and the thing is, I don’t know what scares me the most;
the fear of terrorism or the loss of privacy.
It upsets me that we can’t drive
down the street without pictures being taken of us, that our children cannot
wait for the bus without a parent present, or that armed guards are patrolling
our schools. There’s a part of me that believes the more fear we have, the more
we will have to fear. Fear calls to itself.
Whyte’s poem hits home for me on
many levels.
The
Fire in the Song
The
mouth opens
and
fills the air
with
its vibrant shape
until
the air
and
the mouth
become
one shape
And
the first word
your
own word
spoken
from that fire
surprises,
burns
grieves
you now
because
you
made that pact
with
a dark presence
in
your life.
He
said, “If you only
stop
singing
I’ll
make you safe.”
And
he repeated the line,
knowing
you would hear
“I’ll
make you safe”
as
the comforting
sound
of a door
closed
on the fear at last
but
his darkness
crept
under your tongue
and
became the dim
cave
where
you
sheltered
and
you grew
in
that small place
too
frightened to remember
the
songs of the world,
its
impossible notes,
and
the sweet joy
that
flew out the door
of
your wild mouth
as
you spoke.
--- David Whyte
when I was 10, serving on the altar at church, friends said they could hear me singing from the back of the church - so I sang more quietly - I wanted safety from criticism ... and have forgotten the 'sweet joy' of life. can go many directions here - the caves of my retreats from life - sweet joys departed from, staying immature in me/dead (now?) - or to your point, maybe, of how society can stunt personal expression in favor of what it wants to hear, instead of the cries of the those outcast from the norm
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