As I sit here taking in the sounds of Dario Marianello’s score to Anna Karenina, I’m thinking about the significance that poetry has in my life. I am convinced that music without lyrics is its own source of poetry due to its ability to cut through our very selves and reach into something deeper. Call it our soul or something more abstract, but it affects us in ways that the written word cannot.
I was watching a tv show today and it included a poetry slam. The character’s passion as he told a simple story enchanted me, I felt the goosebumps before they appeared. Reading poetry silently is like reading a piece of music without playing it. You understand the technical aspects of it, but the affect the poem or piece of music could have is completely lost. I would much rather watch a Shakespeare play than read one.
The soul-piercing reaction that music and poetry create provides the proof that the world we live in is so much more complex than we would like to believe. Our very DNA is more complex than most things in this universe. The hidden intricacies of poetry are so subtle that usually the author doesn’t even notice them until another points it out.
I’ve been learning that the complexities in the lives we lead completely eliminate the argument that things can be black and white. The same is with God. If we truly understood God, he wouldn’t be real. I have a feeling that when we reach heaven, he’s going to say, “good try, but you’re way off,” when it comes to truly understanding His will and love.
Or maybe He won’t say that… who am I to know.
I guess just as poetry and music have this mysterious way of moving us, so does life. But it only works if the instrument is picked up and the words are spoken.