Error message

  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available
  • 7digital error - no preview available

Image by Nick Rosza

Poem introduction

Several years ago I took a kind of private vow that I would give no readings that don't explicitly acknowledge the wider suffering of the world, which some of us feel, others of us are privileged to only know from newspapers, and yet which every day bring the evidence of our extraordinary capacity for an incomprehensible inhumaneness, one toward the other. In this case the poem recalls the genocide in Rwanda.

Manners / Rwanda

Manners / Rwanda

They took the woman
and tied to one arm a child
to the other arm a child
to one leg a child
to the other leg a child -
you also read this in the paper -
and threw them all in.
No marks of damage, not one
on the five bodies,
which means of course
that they drowned,
which means of course
that she knew.
The river made its way
from higher ground toward lower
and carried them with decorum,
the way a river does,
it carries what it is given,
and because in the night
a border was crossed,
what was given then was
taken out with a pole.
It may have been untied
before being added
to the tally sheet with others
and given next
to the quicklime and earth,
but probably not.
There it will likely stay,
where it was carried,
the last contact
with anything living
a hand's continuing rising,
almost a waving,
almost a plea,
letting go after rolling it in.
The two beats of the fall
almost gentle,
a door being carefully opened,
quietly closed.
And though you too
are sickened, as even the river
is sickened, undrinkable now
with the human heart,
you also carry
what you were given with decorum.
Perhaps reminded later
by something mentioned
only in passing -
a large family,
a cat's toy of string -
you stop smiling a moment soon.
Across the table
someone notices,
but does not speak.
You watch his question rise
and seem to waver like a hand
about to act,
a hand about to change its mind,
then drop politely away.


from Each Happiness Ringed by Lions (Bloodaxe, 2005), © Jane Hirshfield 2005, used by permission of the author and Bloodaxe Books.

Recordings

Jane Hirshfield Reading from her Poems

1For What Binds Us

2The Poet

3Tree

4Happiness

5Three Foxes by the Edge of the Field at Twilight

6In Praise of Coldness

7Burlap Sack

8Mule Heart

9Changing Everything

10Narrowness

11A Thought

12Each Moment a White Bull Steps Shining into the World

13The Silence

14Rebus

15Poem with Two Endings

16Identity

17Milk

18To Opinion

19To Judgment: An Assay

20Possibility: An Assay

21Da Capo

22Spell To Be Said Upon Departure

23Empedocles' Physics

24Percolation

25Habit

26The Envoy

27The Weighing

28Ripeness

29Critique of Pure Reason

30The Heat of Autumn

31Hope and Love

32The Adamantine Perfection of Desire

33Optimism

34The Bearded Woman

35Three Times My Life has Opened

36When Your Life Looks Back

37On Reading Brecht

38Manners / Rwanda

39Late Prayer

40The Dead Do Not Want Us Dead

41Theology

42Red Berries

43Vinegar and Oil

44A Cedary Fragrance

45Pompeii

46Stone and Knife

47Opening the Hands Between Here and Here

48Vilnius

49After Long Silence

50Pillow

51Each Happiness Ringed By Lions

52In A Room with Five People, Six Griefs

53Salt Heart

54The Bell Zygmunt

55It Was Like This: You Were Happy

Books by Jane Hirshfield