Poem In October (Dylan Thomas)

October turns my mind to autumnal things.  Autumn is a wonderful time of year, invigorating with its cool mornings and colorful foliage. Autumn invites us to draw inward for a time.

Every October, I take some time to read “Poem in October,” by Dylan Thomas. He evokes marvelous imagery, such as “heron priested shore,” and “a child's Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother Through the parables Of sun light.”

In the video below, we can hear Thomas reading his "Poem in October."

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Poem in October (Dylan Thomas)

Even though we are in the midst of an unusual heatwave in the southeast, October turns my mind to autumnal things.  Autumn is a wonderful time of year, invigorating with its cool mornings (surely they will be here soon) and colorful foliage. Autumn invites us to draw inward for a time.

This week I’ve been re-reading Dylan Thomas’ “Poem in October.”  He evokes such marvelous imagery, such as “heron priested shore,” and “a child's Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother Through the parables Of sun light.”

In the video below, we can hear Thomas reading his "Poem in October."

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Dylan Thomas and Hank Williams: They Shared Their Art and Died Young

“But we have this treasure in earthen vessels…”

~ St. Paul (II Corinthians 4:7)

Statue of the poet Dylam Thomas
in Swansea, Wales

Life hurls herself in all of her fullness, as is her wont, though most cast a blind eye and a deaf ear. Some cannot help seeing and hearing.  The surpassing greatness of the power of life flows in excess. The poets and seers are astounded and try their best to tell the wonders, the beauty, and the heartache of dancing within the realm of creation.

Dylan Thomas and Hank Williams both had to write it. One told it, and one sang it, but her essence was so strong that the seers began to temper the onslaught of vision with alcohol. Some peopple drink to numb the pain, others drink to quiet the vision. Still others drink when there is no other one to accompany them on their visionary road.

Memorial statue of Hank Williams
Montgomery Alabama, USA

In another time, they would have been taken into the community to be honored and protected in their shamanic states. They would have been allowed a safe place to tell their visions and sing their songs. Ritual and dance would have marked the comings and goings of Life’s emanations into the human community. The shaman would have been heard, then would have been assisted in his return to everyday life. Permission for vision and permission for cooling toward the ordinary would have been granted.

Today, our shamans enter without training or forewarning. Our humanity, being a few steps removed from the natural rhythms of life, still requires a word of Life. We are ever more bereft of that breath of Spirit. The poet comes of age who is by nature receptive to the Word of Life and Her spirit breath. Beauty of life, hunger of longing, and nearness of death become the ever present company of the poet. The poet must speak whether we hear or not.

Robert Graves wrote a fascinating short story, “The Shout.” It was about a mysterious Englishman, a patient at a mental asylum, who made himself a guest in the house of a young musician and his wife. He claimed to have lived among the Australian Aborigine and had learned secrets of the soul and of nature. He had learned a shout which when vocalized could bring madness and even death to all within hearing range.  He had an unusual control over the man and his wife during his visit. Whether it was all dream, fantasy, or reality, the reader cannot quite be sure.  Graves stated later that the story was an allegory about the disruption that poetry brings to family life.

Dylan and Hank drank themselves to an early grave. If the alcohol had not killed them, the poetry might have. Yet their words and songs remain as a marvel of talent and beauty. The living can calmly remark how amazing it was that so much work came from such a short life.  Their lives and deaths are a testament of how we hold such a vast treasure within ordinary “earthen vessels.” It is as though we are not completely wired to handle the full current of life’s reality.  And yet, Life continues to beckon. Those who have ears to hear celebrate its beauty and wonder. Most of us take that wonder in small doses: a visit to the symphony, a hike in the woods, an appreciation of a sunset, or a favorite hymn or poem taken in from time to time.  We still have shamans and poets walking among us, declaring to us the promise of life.  Sometimes we hear them; sometimes we come too late in our appreciation of their vision.

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The “Heron Priested Shore”

In the clamor and pace of today’s world – the rush to keep appointments, the pressure to close a deal, the inundation of electronic information from so many sources – sometimes we need something more solid and ancient. There is a longing for tried and true ritual that can touch us at a deep and wordless level. What deeper ritual is found than geese in flight on a crisp and quiet afternoon, signaling the turning of the autumnal equinox? What better ancient calling than that of an old forest that holds rocks and streams and remains steadfast through every season?

Autumn is a wonderful time of year, invigorating with its cool mornings and colorful foliage; inviting in its call to draw inward for a time. This week I’ve been reading Dylan Thomas’ “Poem in October.”  He evokes such marvelous imagery, such as “heron priested shore,” and “a child's Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother Through the parables Of sun light.” The poet recalled:

“These were the woods the river and the sea

                Where a boy

             In the listening

     Summertime of the dead whispered the truth of his joy

     To the trees and the stones and the fish in the tide.”

As I read that poem, I was transported to many sacred moments I’ve experienced in nature. I was reminded that it is those moments that are truly eternal.  It is the beauty of the earth that grounds us in our human existence.

So today I invite you to spend some time with Dylan Thomas' poem, or better yet, spend some time outside  – somewhere where you can attend to nature, paying attention to its sights, sounds and rhythms. Take delight in what the earth brings forth in sun, water, wind, sky, land and tree.