Dustbin rue de Sèvres
At the heart of the 7th district
In a pretty little courtyard
There is a royal and posh dustbin
As every morning, an eccentric, someone who has been let down by life
Delivers a stunning and non recyclable waste
Which finds its acolytes indeed.
Second hand or brand new books, even old editions
Heaps of philosophy, poetry and history
The quadrivium subjects are not supposed to bring happiness in nowadays society
Seeing my studies in the waste stirs a weird feeling
Precious gems abandoned and rejected
But also a childlike curiosity to find an unexpected morning sweet treat
As the essence, the absolute is untainted even in the waste
In this society
Can be found in this unutterable place.
I have found
The Kreuzer sonata
The life of Stalin, Kupka the visionary
The myth of Icarus by Sponville
And this very morning, last but not the least,
What if love lasted by Finkelkraut
A grandiose and eternal subject
Maybe even this dilemma on the nature of love is to be thrown in the waste.
A Poem by Stefania
Behind this poem is a story…
A while ago I received a comment on one of my posts by someone calling themselves – Seashell. I replied, and so did she… a conversation grew out of the initial contact, one which has flowed between us in comments across many posts turning a meeting between strangers into a friendship.
She has shared her story with me because I have shared my story with her, our stories have similarities and those have drawn us together, and we have helped each other to make sense of the narrative of our lives.
Like me she has lived in silence… known the comfort and the pain of that silence.
I broke my silence when I started expressing myself through my blog. The time had come for me to let the words inside outside, to set them free, to set myself free. The silence was no longer a comfort and had become only pain.
The time has come for Seashell’s shell of silence to open and let the sea within emerge.
There was a photography challenge recently on The Daily Post – Abandoned – which asked those willing to take up the challenge, to view something abandoned and find poetry within it. Capture the image and share your view of it and what it inspired.
I did a post, and in the comments on that post Seashell related an experience:
I love abandoned objects, they have a history of their own. Guess what, in refined Paris, at the local poubelles of my block, people leave all sorts of things, especially books, lit and philosophy are the hits thrown into the litter. I have found four flutes once too!
I found her story fascinating… I find Seashell fascinating, she has an artistic soul, her inner sea is very deep and beautiful… and when she mentioned that she had written a poem about it, I asked her if she would let me share it on my blog.
I knew this could be a case of me overstepping a boundary, that it might cause her to retreat into her shell, yet I also am aware that she is a strong and brave soul who is ready to allow the world to welcome her, to hear and see her, to encourage her to express herself, who she is, and share her vision with us.
To show her that even when we feel that the world has thrown us away like a philosophy book or a flute into a bin, that is not a reflection of us, we are not garbage, it is simply life’s way of moving us from one place, a place where we no longer belong, to another place, one where our own hand retrieves us from the garbage and shows us that we are valuable, that within us there is a world which welcomes us, and through embracing that inner world, the world outside can also learn from us to appreciate us…
Through sharing ourselves and our experience of life we enrich each other.
In her words:
My real name, Stefania.
I don’t dislike my name, it means crown but I didn’t like the explanations given by my father who thinks it suits me as for him I am a crown of thorns
Here’s is my poem and my effort as soon as I have posted it I felt like..what are you doing crazy girl??
But before posting it where everybody will bump into it, I’d like you to be at ease to tell me if it doesn’t fit your blog or if you don’t like it, it’s your space of the mind and I object to be invasive, we already have lived quite a sample of it in our lives, haven’t we?
Thank you, this is such a big thing for me, you do know why.
This is post is my answer.
Thank you, Stefania… for sharing.