Did
we really do that?
It’s
easy to ask this question as we look back and see what terrible things happened
in the past.
Not
just happened – but were thought of as normal, unexceptional: what people like
you and me were quite happy to countenance, if not actually do.
Well, perhaps
some people sometimes felt that was a bit harsh… who knows?
But
for the most part, decent folk like you and me just accepted it – that’s how it
is, life goes on, why change how we do things and I’ve got quite
enough to do already.
Slavery’s
an obvious example of course.
I
recently wrote a poem about another: the scold’s bridle, an iron helmet with
a plate pressing down on the tongue, used on (what were considered to be) vociferous women – yes, almost invariably women. I was of course pleased that my
poem won a prize, but my consequent revisiting the writing of it and the
research stirred me up all over again, with a renewed and heightened sense of astonishment and
anger.
(The
poem’s on the Poetry Society Website, if you want to read it)
Did
we really do that?
And
what will that question be focused on, as they (‘we’) look back on us?
There
are of course several strong candidates, ranging from how we’re destroying our
world to the gross inequalities we tolerate, but I hope – and sometimes
believe – the time will come when warfare and all that underpins it will be thus
seen.
Well,
bringing it back to the individual, which is where we started, here’s another example – very much more
modest to be sure, but irrevocable. Something we did then that is totally inconceivable now (I
choose the word with care).
This
one applies just to males, for what that’s worth.
Worth.
Was it worth it? At the time, society generally,
the family and the parents in particular thought it was. I think of Alessandro himself wondering if the benefit outweighed the cost.
As for us, we are left shocked, asking that same old
question – did we really do that?
Alessandro
Moreschi
I
shed my ballast long ago
so I
could fly. With loss I found
a
strength and lift above all others.
I
paid the price from my small purse –
two
tokens for the future, spent
upon
another end.
I
cannot say if I regret
that
which I cannot do
for
I have power to move –
I’ll
carry you on wings of song
high
into the clouds. I’ll soar and swoop
across
this world of sound
I’ll
bear you up to heaven even.
Then
we shall gently float
to
land at last, in silence.
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