Originally Published in the Opinion page of the Herald-Zeitung, October 21, 2023.
It is commonplace for any of us to turn to news channels, newspapers and magazine articles to gain a foothold on what is taking place both locally and internationally. Some perspectives we find helpful, others we may not agree with but read anyway to see what another point of view might teach us if we remain open.
In earlier times, people would often turn to literature, to novels, short stories, and dramas to gain insights into the larger and deeper human condition that is foundational to the actual historical events. Poetry was often consulted as another way to reflect on the facts of history. These earlier wisdom sources are infrequently consulted today as a rich source for human understanding.
Yet many of you know the poetry of one of our finest voices, the Irish poet William Butler Yeats. One of his most familiar and often-quoted poems may sound familiar: “The Second Coming.” I have been rereading it lately in the face of so much horror and devastation that seems to be metastasizing into other nations than Israel and Iran. Our own country has its own infectious disruptions that we struggle with, seeking a balance that may include us all. The virus of violence and bloodshed seems to scoff at any boundaries that might contain it.
Yeats’ poem, a mere 21 lines, was written in 1919, just after World War I, which shook the foundation of much of the world. Yeats’ imagery in his exploration seems to be finding new ground in which to be reconsidered. Poetry penetrates deeper than news stories can reach; poetry seeks a deeper truth that is both particular as well as universal in its expression.
Some dominant images emerge early in the poem: “Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold, /Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,/The bold-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere/The ceremony of innocence is drowned”
The disarray expressed above is closely followed by the following punch line that I have heard in different forms but expressing the same sentiment: “The best lack all conviction, while the worst/Are full of passionate intensity.” Of course, we know that poetry’s metaphors are not always to be taken literally. But if one meditates on the above lines, what might emerge in their own thinking about the human condition today? What has collapsed that allows the worst to gain such ferocity, such anger and vitriol?
In the second part of the poem, an image begins to take shape that carries a dark power; it plays off the holy presence of Jesus, but now with a terrifying image: “Surely some revelation is at hand;/Surely the Second Coming is at hand.” We might question whether what is “surely” coming we agree with. Poems do not lecture or tell us outright what it is; they often work obliquely, catering to the imagination of the reader or listener. They teach rather than preach.
Yeats’ poem then asks us to delve deeper into what the poet envisions: “Somewhere in the sands of the desert/A shape with lion body and the head of a man/…Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it/Real shadows of the indignant birds./The darkness drops again; but now I know/That twenty centuries of stony sleep/Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, . . . .”
These lines invite us to look historically to what has been shaping itself into the image that follows. The entire poem up to the last two lines has been prepared so the final image can find its full stature. The topsy-turvy world described above needed to happen first before this ghastly image can achieve its full birthing: “And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, /Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?” In his wisdom, the poet does not tell us or state it; he leaves it an open question for the reader to see with his own heart what has been unleashed so it can slouch towards its own birth. We might consider whether this is the image that we wish to have prowling in our midst.