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Sandy Hook and Poetry
Dec. 14th, 2018 02:41 pmMy favorite poem is The Stolen Child by W.B. Yeats. For the first few years, I only knew two lines:
I had seen them together in someone's signature on Gaia and just assumed that someone was clever. I said it to myself a lot over about five years before I found out that it was part of a poem.
Six years ago, on the day of the Sandy Hook shooting, someone I followed on Tumblr posted more lines of it, since the rest of it is... painfully fitting, for children that were stolen away.
And that's how I knew to look it up. That's how I found out that my comfort lines were lines from a poem. That's how I found out my favorite poem exists. Children died and someone self-soothed by reaching out to poetry, and then shared that.
Today, Sandy Hook elementary school was evacuated because of a bomb threat. (link)
I love humanity for the beautiful things we make and the ways we reach out to each other and the way someone who was dead long, long before I was born can make me safe in the way I used to (and sometimes still do) identify with changelings, even before I knew I was autistic and the way those are probably linked.
But I hate humanity, too. Children were murdered. Nothing changed. We mark an anniversary of mourning, and more children are threatened. I hate that I think the connection the other person made between the shooting and my favorite poem are accurate.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
I had seen them together in someone's signature on Gaia and just assumed that someone was clever. I said it to myself a lot over about five years before I found out that it was part of a poem.
Six years ago, on the day of the Sandy Hook shooting, someone I followed on Tumblr posted more lines of it, since the rest of it is... painfully fitting, for children that were stolen away.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.
And that's how I knew to look it up. That's how I found out that my comfort lines were lines from a poem. That's how I found out my favorite poem exists. Children died and someone self-soothed by reaching out to poetry, and then shared that.
Today, Sandy Hook elementary school was evacuated because of a bomb threat. (link)
I love humanity for the beautiful things we make and the ways we reach out to each other and the way someone who was dead long, long before I was born can make me safe in the way I used to (and sometimes still do) identify with changelings, even before I knew I was autistic and the way those are probably linked.
But I hate humanity, too. Children were murdered. Nothing changed. We mark an anniversary of mourning, and more children are threatened. I hate that I think the connection the other person made between the shooting and my favorite poem are accurate.
