Material: polychromed terracotta
Museo Gregoriano Etrusco
Date: Early 5th century B.C.
Part of Beth's response to the previous entry about the "cave" is: "The funny thing is...my truth is often unkind, repugnant and hurtful, a kind of monster. Hah! sound familiar? But when I let monster out, and I pet it, and tame it, I find a kind of forgiveness, of myself and others."
After reading Beth's comment above about the "monster" hiding in our "cave," I couldn't help but think of the following poem by Louise Bogan, "The Dream":
Oh God, in the dream the terrible horse began
To paw at the air, and make for me with his blows.
Fear kept for thirty-five years poured through his mane,
And retribution equally old, or nearly, breathed through
his nose.
Coward complete, I lay and wept on the ground
When some strong creature appeared, and leapt for the
rein.
Another woman, as I lay half in a swound,
Leapt in the air, and clutched at the leather and chain.
Give him, she said, something of yours as a charm.
Throw him,she said, some poor thing you alone claim.
No, no, I cried, he hates me; he's out for harm,
And whether I yield or not, it is all the same.
But, like a lion in a legend, when I flung the glove
Pulled from my sweating, my cold right hand,
The terrible beast, that no one may understand,
Came to my side, and put down his head in love.
4 comments:
Whar a fine illustration that poem is of taming the monster within. It does take courage, and sweat, and overcoming paralyzing fear, but it can be done. And then look at the power you gain!
BTW - in the penultimate line, Theresa, did you mean to type "many" or should it be "may?"
Vicky
Thanks for catching the typo! Difference between a "P" and a "J" (smile).
Oh, that darned J! Altogether too persnickety!! ;-)
V xx
I love the poem. One of the things that I've been pondering is whether I'm the monster in my own cave. My personal weaknesses are usually my greatest fears, so in some ways when I retreat to my cave, even if I'm not intending to confront my monster, I am. In addition, the nature of depression with me is such that my monsters often do love me, as well they should. After all, I'm the one who feeds them.
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