Robin Davidson, "Winter Litany"

Hi all –

It is a privilege to be in Odessa, to be allowed to do what I can to help others here. I've got an amazing crew I work with and we strive to make sure basic needs are met.

However, Mom was asking yesterday about what it is like living here. I was scrolling Facebook at the time, and while the picture below is from the Odessa American Facebook page, this ad showed up in my timeline. A small miracle, you could say, one giving her an answer with no extra commentary needed:

Look, people are free to say what they want to say in an op-ed section. This is still insanity. I feel like I have to explain what a newspaper is and what the role of news is. Op-ed space is valuable, as people only have so much attention they can give. I have told you about the families I've seen hungry and that's only the beginning of the problems in this area. Loudly proclaiming "The Bible is true" doesn't help advance the civic discourse we need, to put it mildly. (I accidentally liked this post so I wouldn't lose track of it. I did rescind the "like," but yes, you can blame me too.)

We need people to be really clear about what is happening. And we need them to draw red lines and state what is unacceptable. It is not acceptable to have troops police American citizens in two major cities. It is not acceptable to try to deport children to a country where they fear for their lives. We cannot afford the news to be a giant troll operation, creating nothing but clickbait and comment sections full of rage.

I'd like people to be a bit more outspoken. If "The Bible is true" lady can take up op-ed space, surely someone with something to say about poverty or policy can contribute a letter. Every little bit helps, especially when it comes to challenging dominant narratives. A not insignificant number of people think things are going to be just fine, even as people are brutalized and prices soar.

One last link: I got this via Kelly Hayes' marvelous newsletter, but Jared Yates Sexton has an extremely good take on the "Is he dead?" posts that have been going around social media the last few days. tl;dr – some of the most monstrous people are entrenched, with the backing of the courts and a large number of violence workers. We have real work to do; speaking up is a start.

Robin Davidson, "Winter Litany"

Robin Davidson's "Winter Litany" places us atop a hill in Krakow. Not just any hill, though, but Wawel Hill. We stand next to centuries of royalty and art and heritage. Nearby a castle, a poem in its own right, overlooking a city rich with history. What she's doing up there is watching the snow: "I stand on Wawel Hill / in early March and morning snow / falls in flocks..."

I confess I was never patient enough to sit and watch the snow fall for a little while. I guess I could take it in for 5 minutes while drinking hot chocolate. Davidson, however, observes the snow. Seeing how it falls, how it transforms. One senses that she's attending to deeper mysteries.

This leads me to a related question: What is like to stare at the snow? Like, really stare at it? I think we have to briefly touch on how we focus on something with potential meaning. You spend some time on each portrait in an art museum, debating. Maybe he looks frustrated; no, he's reaching forward, aiming for confrontation. Angry? He could be sad, too. Snow seems a clearer domain of contemplation than human emotion. It is frozen water which will melt and evaporate. Of course, nothing is actually clear about snow. Consider Frederick Seidel's short poem:

Snow is what it does.
It falls and it stays and it goes.
It melts and it is here somewhere.
We all will get there.

This lyric pulses with nihilism. "We all will get there" shuts down any musing on winter's beauty. Contrast with Davidson's "falls in flocks," testifying to snow's life. "[I]t is here somewhere" emphasizes how pointless locating it is, which is rather curious since melted snow makes spring a reality. I want to argue with Seidel–indeed, in the above link, I have argued with him–but he and Davidson do provide a provisional answer to my question. Staring at the snow is a search for meaning, and you will find something to fill in that blank.

Winter Litany (from Robin Davidson)
Robin Davidson

Kraków, March, 2004

I stand on Wawel Hill
in early March and morning snow
falls in flocks
tiny paper cranes
descending blowing dissolving
one into another
on the cobblestone walk
an avalanche of light

I believe this must be
what death is

this alternate
shining and melting, shining and flying

Davidson tells us the snow appeared as "flocks" and "tiny paper cranes." First you see a bunch of tiny white birds, gathered, flying. And then they get closer and you marvel at signs of their intricacy. You can't see the whole fractal, but you grasp the geometry. Patterns which we have discovered and replicated. She speaks as if nature turns from its ways of organizing to ours. A group of animals gathers a certain way, we can fold or be folded a certain way.

And then, her concluding vision, this mess of white and light. "[D]escending blowing dissolving / one into another / on the cobblestone walk / an avalanche of light."

It's a miraculous vision. There are others on the hill–it's a major tourist attraction–but they don't see it. Some have seen lots of snow at the castle. For you, this is the tree smothered in a flame which will not burn it. You were focused on the snowflakes; you saw them collapse into each other; now there's light. Davidson's haiku-like suggestion is that the snow is the light itself.

This is death. This is nirvana: "alternate / shining and melting, shining and flying." Davidson has brought us to a grand puzzle, but a puzzle those of us who have recently experienced loss know too well. The fragments of those who passed are everywhere. They are actually everything–there isn't a single atom untouched by their memory. Sometimes you realize that. There's a shine. Something glows: a line from an advertisement they found funny. A picture of a celebrity they admired, an old story they liked telling. You find yourself frozen or crying a little bit. It's so weird how this will let you take flight, how it will unencumber you. Some ghosts, some spirits, liberate.