Remarks from the Fray:
This poem is powerful in its simplicity, reflecting the communication between a dying woman and a doe. It opens by speaking of a last, euphoric summer, between rounds of chemotherapy, and so we know that death for the woman is imminent. She looks from her kitchen window and sees a doe at the edge of her lawn.
I find the selection of the plants in that thicket interesting. The poem is set in summer. Yet, autumn olive and buckthorn invoke the coming fall. And forsythia and dogwood are also named – both of which flower in the springtime and are traditional harbingers of that season. In addition, dogwood is a symbol of life, death and resurrection, and appears quite often in Easter traditions.
These mixed plants do not deliver a mixed message, however. For in the new fawn and the dying woman, we find birth and impending death, spring and fall.
We also witness a rare moment of connection, as the doe stands still, her gaze fixed on the woman who has stepped outside now. And the doe does something absolutely outside the norm. Rather than protecting and hiding her newly birthed fawn, she seems to show it to the dying woman.
She looks into the eyes of the woman, as if to affirm that something out of the ordinary is about to happen, then nudges her baby into movement.
The fawn raises its head, weak from its struggle to be born. The dying woman, also weak from the ravages of hopeless chemo and her struggle with death, looks back, embracing the message of the moment. Two visitors on this plane are passing each other here briefly, headed in opposite directions, and there is this moment of kinship and acknowledgement and elemental truth.
There are many elements to appreciate in this poem. I like the use of the diverse plants to indicate the seasons of life that meet here within this poem. And I find the phrase companionable/ complicit question a fine choice, showing the immediate and very natural connection between the doe/oracle with her message/fawn and the woman.
The image of the fawn folded up like an awkward deck chair is brilliant, and one I won't soon forget.
I also like the phrase One of you before, the other beyond fear. The innocent fawn hasn't learned to be afraid yet, and the dying woman has made peace with her fear. And the phrase could extend to the doe, as well, who has reached beyond fear to deliver a poignant message to the woman.
Finally, while the poem qualifies the experience as likely delusion the incident is not at all beyond my own comprehension and life experience, and is, therefore, easy for me to accept as reality.
On the path that I follow, this incident would simply be logged in my journal as one more earth lesson. And far from the fawn and the woman being side effects on one other, I see their communication as a great affirmation and a spiritual moment that this dying woman needed for her journey.
--Angel
(To reply, click here.)
The epigraph is a perfect crystallization of Warren's poem. Tall's excerpt describes a fleeting moment; as soon as dawn appears, it is over. Likewise, the moment the dying woman and the fawn "took each other in," the moment was gone, with each of them "headed in opposite directions."
The title could refer to the aftermath of the woman finding out her cancer is terminal, leaving her "euphoric," "more or less / posthumous," and "beyond fear." But if so, why would she be "between / one chemo and another"? For me, puzzling that out is not important, just as I don't think it is important whether the woman actually saw a doe and her just-born fawn or wished it into being as a result of her being "light-headed."
What's important is that the woman believes that she and the fawn "took each other in" for a split second before they headed in opposite directions, one to death, one to adulthood. Angel says, "I see their communication as a great affirmation and a spiritual moment that this dying woman needed for her journey." I disagree, because I don't think we can know whether or not that happened. But what we do know is that just for a fleeting moment the two "took each other in." Perhaps that is the best we can hope for in our life – a split second of communication with the natural world before "it was over." And this woman was fortunate enough to be able to experience that moment.
The poem suggests that the woman told the narrator, and now the narrator has written this poem to bear witness to what happened, presumably because the woman cannot do so herself. Warren has acquitted herself of her task fairly well. I particularly like the way she begins the poem with two long, leisurely sentences, and then gradually makes her sentences shorter and shorter as time runs out. The language is mostly prosaic, the excess of "you's" in the last six lines is a bit off-putting, and "side effects" is jarring. However, Warren does well with comparing the fawn to "an awkward deck chair" and with the suggestiveness of "the doe stayed still / and looked in your eyes, you thought, with a companionable / complicit question."
This is a poem that can be read more than one way, a poem with multiple layers of meaning, a poem to savor as we all grow older.
--Mary Ann
(To reply, click here.)
(12/26)
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Remarks from the Fray:
This poem is powerful in its simplicity, reflecting the communication between a dying woman and a doe. It opens by speaking of a last, euphoric summer, between rounds of chemotherapy, and so we know that death for the woman is imminent. She looks from her kitchen window and sees a doe at the edge of her lawn.
I find the selection of the plants in that thicket interesting. The poem is set in summer. Yet, autumn olive and buckthorn invoke the coming fall. And forsythia and dogwood are also named – both of which flower in the springtime and are traditional harbingers of that season. In addition, dogwood is a symbol of life, death and resurrection, and appears quite often in Easter traditions.
These mixed plants do not deliver a mixed message, however. For in the new fawn and the dying woman, we find birth and impending death, spring and fall.
We also witness a rare moment of connection, as the doe stands still, her gaze fixed on the woman who has stepped outside now. And the doe does something absolutely outside the norm. Rather than protecting and hiding her newly birthed fawn, she seems to show it to the dying woman.
She looks into the eyes of the woman, as if to affirm that something out of the ordinary is about to happen, then nudges her baby into movement.
The fawn raises its head, weak from its struggle to be born. The dying woman, also weak from the ravages of hopeless chemo and her struggle with death, looks back, embracing the message of the moment. Two visitors on this plane are passing each other here briefly, headed in opposite directions, and there is this moment of kinship and acknowledgement and elemental truth.
There are many elements to appreciate in this poem. I like the use of the diverse plants to indicate the seasons of life that meet here within this poem. And I find the phrase companionable/ complicit question a fine choice, showing the immediate and very natural connection between the doe/oracle with her message/fawn and the woman.
The image of the fawn folded up like an awkward deck chair is brilliant, and one I won't soon forget.
I also like the phrase One of you before, the other beyond fear. The innocent fawn hasn't learned to be afraid yet, and the dying woman has made peace with her fear. And the phrase could extend to the doe, as well, who has reached beyond fear to deliver a poignant message to the woman.
Finally, while the poem qualifies the experience as likely delusion the incident is not at all beyond my own comprehension and life experience, and is, therefore, easy for me to accept as reality.
On the path that I follow, this incident would simply be logged in my journal as one more earth lesson. And far from the fawn and the woman being side effects on one other, I see their communication as a great affirmation and a spiritual moment that this dying woman needed for her journey.
--Angel
(To reply, click here.)
The epigraph is a perfect crystallization of Warren's poem. Tall's excerpt describes a fleeting moment; as soon as dawn appears, it is over. Likewise, the moment the dying woman and the fawn "took each other in," the moment was gone, with each of them "headed in opposite directions."
The title could refer to the aftermath of the woman finding out her cancer is terminal, leaving her "euphoric," "more or less / posthumous," and "beyond fear." But if so, why would she be "between / one chemo and another"? For me, puzzling that out is not important, just as I don't think it is important whether the woman actually saw a doe and her just-born fawn or wished it into being as a result of her being "light-headed."
What's important is that the woman believes that she and the fawn "took each other in" for a split second before they headed in opposite directions, one to death, one to adulthood. Angel says, "I see their communication as a great affirmation and a spiritual moment that this dying woman needed for her journey." I disagree, because I don't think we can know whether or not that happened. But what we do know is that just for a fleeting moment the two "took each other in." Perhaps that is the best we can hope for in our life – a split second of communication with the natural world before "it was over." And this woman was fortunate enough to be able to experience that moment.
The poem suggests that the woman told the narrator, and now the narrator has written this poem to bear witness to what happened, presumably because the woman cannot do so herself. Warren has acquitted herself of her task fairly well. I particularly like the way she begins the poem with two long, leisurely sentences, and then gradually makes her sentences shorter and shorter as time runs out. The language is mostly prosaic, the excess of "you's" in the last six lines is a bit off-putting, and "side effects" is jarring. However, Warren does well with comparing the fawn to "an awkward deck chair" and with the suggestiveness of "the doe stayed still / and looked in your eyes, you thought, with a companionable / complicit question."
This is a poem that can be read more than one way, a poem with multiple layers of meaning, a poem to savor as we all grow older.
--Mary Ann
(To reply, click here.)
(12/26)