“In the universe, there are things that are known,
and things that are unknown, and in between them,
there are doors.” ~ William Blake
Prompted and written for Dora of @PilgrimDreams.com, the host at dVerse Poetics
for Tuesday, June 11th.
Our challenge? Using one of the three types of liminal spaces listed above,
let’s give poetic voice to what “doors” it may open to us. You can employ the
liminal space as the setting and/or the subject. Write about it as an observer or
participant, of how it may prepare, ground, provoke, intrigue you, unexpectedly
or not, for better or worse. You may want to use an image (like those above) for
inspiration. I just want you to have fun exploring the idea of a liminal space and
seeing what you can come up with.
New to dVerse? Please find details in the link.
Who Says You Can’t Go Home: Inspired by Hermann Hesse’s Steppenwolf
It’s a poor brother, he, who cannot draw pleasure from life for fear of living—
unwilling to live. And stubborn. And rude. And unsympathetic. And goes instead,
breathing the staleness of something learned in a liminal land with many doors,
and dark passages.
A land of overstimulated, easily bored people with plinth entitlements
practiced in grim hallways with faceless souls, alone but not alone, who never
reveal real names. And no one speaks. And unwilling to learn to live.
Each, feeling the wrath of hell burning, extinguished momentarily, but mistaking
it for the womb; the Om of heaven. For whom solitude is cold, but solitude is
independence from judging eyes.
Disengaged and cross with the toneless Om of the sterile life of his countryman,
the brother—alone in the womb of home, now foreign—taps too often into those
filthy hallways but only in his pool of memory. Alone. Very alone.
Pitiful! Now he’s deep in Om, living among simple people practiced in the
kind of Om where grace enters the soul. He wants them to change their Om
for the mist of a mistaken heaven.
With pockets full of cash, brandishing it with cynicism, knowing how hard
these simple people have to work for half of what he burns on his hell herbs
of choice, he commits outrages.
No one is above him; not even God. He is god—why is this so incompre-
hensible to everyone? No, such a beast cannot go home. Such a beast,
misinformed of heaven, cannot find home, nor joy, nor inclusion.
He’s already dead—no one takes him seriously.
The poor brother! He’s a dead coward, celled in a liminal passage
somewhere. Dead because he never learned to live.
©️ selma
Hermann Hesse, the 1946 Nobel Prize of Literature winner.
In this poem (extracted from Hesse quotes on Goodreads and some knowledge
I have about midlife*), I attempt to portray the human struggle for meaning,
authenticity: the midlife crisis experienced by the central character of
Steppenwolf, Harry Haller-- in the modern, liminality of this world.
*midlife: a second puberty of sorts/a liminal space, if you will.
Source:
-Goodreads quotes
-Ode To The Past Website:
https://odetothepast.com/steppenwolf-by-hermann-hesse/
Thanks for reading.
…
FYI,
My baby, my debut poetry collection, In The Shadow of Rainbows, is about to turn One year old.
What is a new author supposed to do if not shamelessly inform you about her book? Well, here I am, shamelessly informing…
Let me know if you haven’t read it yet and we will fix that.
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so well done, selma. i have always been fascinated by liminal spaces
who never
reveal real names. And no one speaks. And unwilling to learn to live.
Each, feeling the wrath. Amazing words written you.
Those words—so happy you liked them. You’re always a great encourager my friend. Thank you.
Always your kindness reply to me. Iam so…so .glad! You Like them.
My pleasure!
Liminal spaces. This is only the second time I’ve written about liminal spaces. You should see what the others have written. Wowed indeed.
Thanks Beth. Bless you.
Beth 🤗 Liminal spaces. This is only the second time I’ve written about liminal spaces. You should see what the others have written. Wowed indeed.
Thanks Beth. Bless you.
they are ethereal
Thanks, Beth.
what an indictment of Harry’s struggle in your poetry – ” cannot find home, nor joy, nor inclusion.”
he’s a favourite character of mine, daring to go into the liminal spaces not tasted in youth and doomed to live in wondering
Laura thanks for your beautiful words. Happy you saw something here—I wasn’t sure. Bless you.
You’ve captured a liminal space indeed!
Thanks, dear Merril. 🤗
You’re welcome, Selma! 😊
Amazing writing Selma 🤗
You’re just too kind. Thanks, Maggie.
My pleasure always Selma
This one goes in the direction of Ionesco, of Beckett, of Canterbury Tales too. A real tour de force. Sublime indictment, to be read as very good for is eaten.
Hello, A.H. I appreciate your reading and commenting. So pleased you liked my attempt on this prompt. Bless you.
Behind the doors, other liminal spaces are found.
Di. Yes. That’s so true. Thanks for reading. Blessings.
💞
This liminal space as a prison of self is so well written… I feel that loneliness feeds loneliness.
Loneliness feeds on more of itself. It’s a wicked thing. I’m so pleased you read and commented, Björn. Thanks for liking it too 🤗
From the opening … “And goes instead,
breathing the staleness of something learned in a liminal land with many doors,
and dark passages” …
to the ending …. “He’s a dead coward, celled in a liminal passage
somewhere. Dead because he never learned to live” ….
you lead us in this descent down into the mind of one whose very nature is to be a “beast,” for whom life is empty and lonely because shunned. What a cautionary tale, Selma, written in the style of a wise but passionate sage’s recounting, pouring scorn on the “home”-lessness of one who cynically sells a false heaven for the true and creates hell for himself and others.
I have not read the book that inspired this poem but you’ve spurred my curiosity to do so. As someone commented above, your poem is a tour de force, a creation that will linger in my mind for a long time. Thank you for sharing this with us.
Hello dear Dora. Thanks for the prompt, for showing me how to do it with yours and for liking mine. A cautionary tale it is indeed. Of a beast for whom life is empty and lonely because shunned —you got that so right.
And then seconding that the poem is a tour de force— 🤗 how very very sweet.
Thanks for the prompt. You rock.
First of all, I love this book! Secondly, your poem is so deep and insightful, it led my mind off into a deep and meandering musing on the human condition. So beautifully wise, Selma. I was especially struck by this whole section:
“A land of overstimulated, easily bored people with plinth entitlements
practiced in grim hallways with faceless souls, alone but not alone, who never
reveal real names. And no one speaks. And unwilling to learn to live.” – Perfection👌🏼
“Each, feeling the wrath of hell burning, extinguished momentarily, but mistaking
it for the womb; the Om of heaven. For whom solitude is cold, but solitude is
independence from judging eyes.” – Wow! 🤩
Oops, that anonymous comment below was from me! I’ve notice this keeps happening when I post on your posts sometimes, I’ll have to keep an eye on it.
The last line took me out!!! Dead because he never learned to live. WOW!!!
“he, who cannot draw pleasure from life for fear of living—
unwilling to live”
A sad state indeed, yet so many live there.
So many live there. Yup. Too sad.