Learning to Read and Write (Again)
I often forget how closely intertwined reading and writing are. I know that many writers insist that in order to hone the craft of writing, one must read as much as possible and as consistently as possible. Still, sometimes sitting in front of a blank page I imagine that my lack of inspiration stems from forces much deeper than a simple lack of reading.
Two days ago, I began to read poetry again, for the first time in a few weeks. One of my advisors had suggested the writings of Faiz Ahmed Faiz, an Urdu poet. As I began to flip through the pages of Faiz’s “Best Of” Collection, I felt myself longing once again to write. I applied to Duke’s Archaeology trip in Israel largely because I imagined that the experiences of the trip might allow me to write new kinds of content in my poetry. While I consistently wrote journal entries during my two weeks in Israel, it wasn’t until two days ago that I began to write any poetry about my time in the Holy Land. Among the most marked effects of my experience writing this thesis, I have found my notions about the compositions of poetry largely de-romanticized. Of course, I had been writing poems for several years before beginning this project, but over the past semester, I have been struck again and again by how important consistency and revision are to writing the pieces I hold the most dear. Below I leave you with an example, a poem about the Jaffa Gate that I wrote not while enjoying the sunset in Jerusalem but rather after mulling over the experiences of the trip for many days and finally sitting down to see what I might write, a little nervous that I might produce nothing at all. Thankfully, that wasn’t what happened.
At the Jaffa Gate
the walls here are
barricades and fortresses
so stubbornly a part of the landscape they feel alive
battle-worn from centuries of holding in tradition
and spent from straining against newness mercilessly pressing in
(change has little patience in this city)
but,
this century, this season, this afternoon
stones are scattered
sliced by shops and stalls
tourists flow like tides around the gates
maybe slowing to let their fingertips brush the past
maybe
but,
soon enough they will forget
to wonder if the wall is armor or art
it is both, i think
soaking in the stillness of the sun’s last rays
it is both because now it stands scarred
by swirling sands of time, by the desert’s fury, by man’s greed
yet as day sinks to darkness
for a second the stone is gilded gold and
glows delicately, as proud and pretty as a sculpture
healed for the ten thousandth time by the cooling of the day
armor and art
16 January 2012
And now, something by Faiz:
Bahar Aayee (Spring Has Come)
By Faiz Ahmed Faiz
Spring has come
So have returned suddenly from the past
All those dreams, all that beauty
That on your lips had died
That had died and lived again each time
All the roses are blooming
That still smell of your memories
That are the blood of my love for you
Spring has come
All the torments are raging again
That unheeded advice of friends
That intoxication of your embrace
The dust of old chapters have opened
With all our questions, all our answers
Spring has come
So have opened
All the journals of my love anew
All the journals of my love anew
Spring has come
Spring has come
- Painting of Faiz
Tags: Faiz Ahmed Faiz, Israel, poets, the writing process