August

The cicada shell
clings to a day in the past
it's broken lantern
dusty with evening light.

Walking alone toward the house,
my life is a moon
in the frail blue branches
of my veins.


by Ted Kooser 
from Sure Signs

Love and Breath: Deconstructed

Requiem - by Nathalia Suellen

It is neither strength, nor weakness that can be blamed.
In the end the fault lies in need.
In desperation.

Beauty can not be forced, though beauty be a force.
Trust. It is enough.
You are enough.

You who want it so badly, who yearn to control and contain.
You take on too much and must push, squeezing to the limits of your strength.
Release your worry.

Or, You with a tepid heart, who are shallow or threadbare.
You can not even conceive how far you are from what you desire, passionless and banal you will remain.
Open your eyes.

When awareness meets an open heart, there is a flow.
Love is magnified, shared and multiplied.

But it can not come from the poverty of an impoverished heart. From the need to prove, or move and least of all from the lack of will.
There is no ego in this. Take off your mask. Give up yourself and dive in.

Love is all we really have in this world. Everything else we borrow.
But our love is the only thing that is really ours to give and receive.
It is an active force, constantly pulsing and radiating
It comes from within and the trust comes first.

Trust brings the balance to the elements:
Anticipation and Desire
Inspiration and Liberation
Exhale into creation.

You are a force of nature.
You are fearfully and wonderfully made.
You were given a gift to share.
Time to step up.

Angel in pink light

I opened my eyes and saw a bright pink light.
"What is that?" I thought, unwitting that I had said it aloud.
A voice, "What do you see, hon?"
Who's voice was this? Do I know this voice?
"Who are you?" I asked. "Is the pink the curtain? or the sky?"
The voice answered, "The curtain is pink, but I pulled it back, the pink light is dawn. It is Saturday morning. My name is José. Are you thirsty?"

Saturday. I had made it to Saturday. I had lived through it.
"José, can I see the sky?"
"Let me adjust your table, I can't sit you up, but I can angle you. Do you want some jello?" José asked.
"No, jello thank you, just sky. Can I have my glasses?"
I felt my wedding band on my finger. It hadn't been a dream. Jason had been there. He had seen me. Did I remember seeing him? or dream it.
"He fainted, didn't he?"
José pushed my glasses onto my nose. The window came into view, and the blazing pink rushed into focus. I was alive. It was Saturday, July 29, 2006 and I was alive.
"My babies???"
José answered, "About two hours ago, we did a quick heart beat monitor. They were fine, two strong heartbeats. By 8 am, there will be a team here with an ultrasound, you'll see them today. The anesthesiologist was sure they were fine. You were monitored very closely. You had a rough night. You're husband and mom were here, your husband was a little scared. Your mom took him home. Are you in pain?"
I never saw José, he was silhouetted in the pink light. Jason had kissed me, he had put my band back on my finger, than he said 'i am gonna faint.' and the nurse got him a chair just in time. I hadn't dreamed it.
"No, no pain, not like before anyway. I have my babies, I have my life. We will be okay."
José showed me how to use the PCA, and I did use it, but before I slipped back into sleep, I saw the dawn. Literally, the dawn of a new day for us. Later Jason came in, as I was transferred to an ICU room. He was there for the ultrasound. We cried together. The babies were kicking and squirming as before.

Naïvite and Wagner Camp

I am spending 10 days studying under the magnificent Jane Eaglen and her assembled team of super-Wagner colleagues.

My performance assignments are Sieglinde in Die Walküre (Act 1, Scene 3)
and Elsa of Brabant in Lohengrin (Act 2, Scene 2)

Twice I have been in conversations with a director or coach where the word naïve came up as the quality that these ladies, and I have very mixed regards to this word. It has an underlying implication of some mental deficiency. Being a strong willed (read:stubborn) woman of a relatively high IQ, despite being a natural blonde this sits very uneasily with me. I've fought stereotypes my whole life. So, I started to deconstruct the women I'm playing in order to serve them better.

Both of these ladies are pretty much victims of circumstance and crimes perpetrated by forces they can not understand or overcome.
But does that make them naïve?

Sieglinde, having been separated at birth from her twin Siegmund describes in colorful language her plight in the first 2 lines of her monologue "Der Männer Sippe".
The way I translate it:
The clansmen sat there in the hall for Hunding's wedding summoned
His suitor, a woman that all unasked, the rapists gave him to wife.

So, already we know Sieglinde is damaged. Emotionally, she was forced into a marriage to Hunding by a pack of his tribesmen.
Hunding and his pals sit around and drink as she weeps in misery, knowing that she is powerless to change her fate.
She goes on to describe the only time she can remember someone looking at her tenderly, with pity. As it turns out this was her father, Wotan, who himself was unable to save her from this fate.
The best he could do is plunge a sword into the Ash tree and declare that whomever draws it forth can have it and Sieglinde as a rightful spouse.
So, basically she is living as a sex slave to a warlord. She's desperate, she is the epitome of vulnerable, and Dear God is she damaged... but I don't see this as naïve.
When her hero comes to the door, she doesn't ask questions, at least not until she is already wooed by his words. She speaks to him in the same warlike gruff heroic tones in her monologue, because this is the only language she knows for strong emotion.
This makes Siegmund's "Winterstürme" even more of a revelation to her. Someone can use words of spring and love, and flowers and tenderness and convey a passionate emotion that has nothing to do with war or rape. This is what leads her into her outpouring of "Du bist der Lenz", she has never been spoken to in this way. Is it any wonder that despite finding out he is her twin brother she still runs off with Siegmund? No, he's her ticket out.


On to Elsa -
The case for Elsa's naïvité is really a lot harder to discount in today's society.
If someone one makes your brother disappear and then blames you for his murder, you may be suspicious of them.
But, if we believe Elsa is so accused and therefore spends hours in prayer, as she says in her dream aria from Act 1, she has no time to be suspicious of anyone else.
She is wrapped up in prayers for her brother's return and the dream of a champion who can rescue her and clear her name. This may seem ridiculously innocent, but consider she is living in Belgium in the 10th Century. She is a faithful Catholic. It does not help that she is being duped by a pagan priestess.
I've been doing a lot of reading lately, and it strikes me how much the Gospels refer to Christ's desire for us to become like little children to enter into his kingdom. What does that mean? "Become like a little child"?
Well, I have two young kids and I can tell you my thoughts.
Young kids from a loving home are (mostly) born with a strong sense of justice.
They believe in the good of all people, and though they get warnings about bad things and strangers and evils, their first instinct is to trust and love everyone they meet. If someone is sad or hurt they seek to console, they do not view them as threats.
In this scene with Ortrud in Act 2, Scene 2, despite all of the warnings she may be getting from the orchestra Elsa continues to show love and mercy towards Ortrud. This is definitely a Catholic tenet. Turn the other cheek, forgive, console the brokenhearted.
So, is being a good Catholic akin to being naïve or weak?
Well, I would say definitely not weakness, if anything more strength is drawn from her faith.
As for naïvité, let me go to confession and I'll get back to you on that.


That is really all I have from Wagner Camp. Tonight I sing on a master class for Tim Mussard. I'll be singing Elsa's dream from Act I of Lohengrin called "Einsam in trüben Tagen".

Here is a link to the aria sung by Eleanor Steber http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r7wH2qiXboU

Monna Innominata: A Sonnet of Sonnets - by Christina Georgina Rossetti (1830-1894)

1 


Lo dì che han detto a' dolci amici addio. - Dante 

Amor, con quanto sforzo oggi mi vinci! - Petrarca 


Come back to me, who wait and watch for you:--

Or come not yet, for it is over then, 

And long it is before you come again, 

So far between my pleasures are and few. 

While, when you come not, what I do I do 

Thinking "Now when he comes," my sweetest when:" 

For one man is my world of all the men 

This wide world holds; O love, my world is you. 

Howbeit, to meet you grows almost a pang

Because the pang of parting comes so soon;

My hope hangs waning, waxing, like a moon

Between the heavenly days on which we meet: 

Ah me, but where are now the songs I sang

When life was sweet because you call'd them sweet? 



2


Era già 1'ora che volge il desio. - Dante

Ricorro al tempo ch' io vi vidi prima. - Petrarca 


I wish I could remember that first day,

First hour, first moment of your meeting me, 

If bright or dim the season, it might be 

Summer or winter for aught I can say; 

So unrecorded did it slip away, 

So blind was I to see and to foresee, 

So dull to mark the budding of my tree 

That would not blossom yet for many a May. 

If only I could recollect it, such

A day of days! I let it come and go 

As traceless as a thaw of bygone snow;

It seem'd to mean so little, meant so much;

If only now I could recall that touch, 

First touch of hand in hand--Did one but know! 




3 


O ombre vane, fuor che ne l'aspetto! - Dante 

Immaginata guida la conduce. - Petrarca
I dream of you to wake: would that I might

Dream of you and not wake but slumber on; 

Nor find with dreams the dear companion gone, 

As summer ended summer birds take flight.

In happy dreams I hold you full in sight, 

I blush again who waking look so wan; 

Brighter than sunniest day that ever shone,

In happy dreams your smile makes day of night. 

Thus only in a dream we are at one, 

Thus only in a dream we give and take 

The faith that maketh rich who take or give;

If thus to sleep is sweeter than to wake, 

To die were surely sweeter than to live, 

Though there be nothing new beneath the sun.




4 


Poca favilla gran fliamma seconda. - Dante

Ogni altra cosa, ogni pensier va fore, 
E sol ivi con voi rimansi amore. - Petrarca 


I lov'd you first: but afterwards your love 

Outsoaring mine, sang such a loftier song 

As drown'd the friendly cooings of my dove. 

Which owes the other most? my love was long, 

And yours one moment seem'd to wax more strong;

I lov'd and guess'd at you, you construed me-- 

And lov'd me for what might or might not be 

Nay, weights and measures do us both a wrong.

For verily love knows not "mine" or "thine;" 

With separate "I" and "thou" free love has done, 

For one is both and both are one in love: 

Rich love knows nought of "thine that is not mine;" 

Both have the strength and both the length thereof,

Both of us, of the love which makes us one. 




5 


Amor che a nullo amato amar perdona. - Dante 

Amor m'addusse in sì gioiosa spene. - Petrarca


O my heart's heart, and you who are to me

More than myself myself, God be with you, 

Keep you in strong obedience leal and true 

To Him whose noble service setteth free, 

Give you all good we see or can foresee, 

Make your joys many and your sorrows few,

Bless you in what you bear and what you do, 

Yea, perfect you as He would have you be.

So much for you; but what for me, dear friend? 

To love you without stint and all I can 

Today, tomorrow, world without an end; 

To love you much and yet to love you more, 

As Jordan at his flood sweeps either shore; 

Since woman is the helpmeet made for man. 




6


Or puoi la quantitate 
Comprender de l'amor che a te mi scalda. - Dante 

Non vo' che da tal nodo mi scioglia. - Petrarca 


Trust me, I have not earn'd your dear rebuke,

I love, as you would have me, God the most;

Would lose not Him, but you, must one be lost,

Nor with Lot's wife cast back a faithless look 

Unready to forego what I forsook; 

This say I, having counted up the cost, 

This, though I be the feeblest of God's host, 

The sorriest sheep Christ shepherds with His crook. 

Yet while I love my God the most, I deem 

That I can never love you overmuch;

I love Him more, so let me love you too; 

Yea, as I apprehend it, love is such

I cannot love you if I love not Him,

I cannot love Him if I love not you. 




7 


Qui primavera sempre ed ogni frutto. - Dante 

Ragionando con meco ed io con lui. - Petrarca 


"Love me, for I love you"--and answer me, 

"Love me, for I love you"--so shall we stand 

As happy equals in the flowering land 

Of love, that knows not a dividing sea. 

Love builds the house on rock and not on sand, 

Love laughs what while the winds rave desperately; 

And who hath found love's citadel unmann'd? 

And who hath held in bonds love's liberty? 

My heart's a coward though my words are brave 

We meet so seldom, yet we surely part

So often; there's a problem for your art! 

Still I find comfort in his Book, who saith,

Though jealousy be cruel as the grave, 

And death be strong, yet love is strong as death. 




8 


Come dicesse a Dio: D'altro non calme. - Dante

Spero trovar pietà non che perdono. - Petrarca 


"I, if I perish, perish"--Esther spake: 

And bride of life or death she made her fair 

In all the lustre of her perfum'd hair 

And smiles that kindle longing but to slake.

She put on pomp of loveliness, to take 

Her husband through his eyes at unaware; 

She spread abroad her beauty for a snare, 

Harmless as doves and subtle as a snake. 

She trapp'd him with one mesh of silken hair,

She vanquish'd him by wisdom of her wit, 

And built her people's house that it should stand:-- 

If I might take my life so in my hand, 

And for my love to Love put up my prayer, 

And for love's sake by Love be granted it! 




9 


O dignitosa coscienza e netta! - Dante 

Spirto più acceso di virtuti ardenti. - Petrarca 


Thinking of you, and all that was, and all

That might have been and now can never be, 

I feel your honour'd excellence, and see 

Myself unworthy of the happier call: 

For woe is me who walk so apt to fall, 

So apt to shrink afraid, so apt to flee, 

Apt to lie down and die (ah, woe is me!) 

Faithless and hopeless turning to the wall.

And yet not hopeless quite nor faithless quite, 

Because not loveless; love may toil all night, 

But take at morning; wrestle till the break 

Of day, but then wield power with God and man:-- 

So take I heart of grace as best I can, 

Ready to spend and be spent for your sake. 




10


Con miglior corso e con migliore stella. - Dante 

La vita fugge e non s'arresta un' ora. - Petrarca


Time flies, hope flags, life plies a wearied wing;

Death following hard on life gains ground apace;
Faith runs with each and rears an eager face, 

Outruns the rest, makes light of everything, 

Spurns earth, and still finds breath to pray and sing; 

While love ahead of all uplifts his praise, 

Still asks for grace and still gives thanks for grace,

Content with all day brings and night will bring. 

Life wanes; and when love folds his wings above 


Tired hope, and less we feel his conscious pulse,
Let us go fall asleep, dear friend, in peace: 

A little while, and age and sorrow cease; 

A little while, and life reborn annuls 

Loss and decay and death, and all is love.




11 


Vien dietro a me e lascia dir le genti. - Dante

Contando i casi della vita nostra. - Petrarca 


Many in aftertimes will say of you 

"He lov'd her"--while of me what will they say? 

Not that I lov'd you more than just in play, 

For fashion's sake as idle women do.

Even let them prate; who know not what we knew 

Of love and parting in exceeding pain, 

Of parting hopeless here to meet again, 

Hopeless on earth, and heaven is out of view. 

But by my heart of love laid bare to you, 

My love that you can make not void nor vain, 

Love that foregoes you but to claim anew 

Beyond this passage of the gate of death, 

I charge you at the Judgment make it plain 

My love of you was life and not a breath. 




12


Amor, che ne la mente mi ragiona. - Dante

Amor vien nel bel viso di costei. - Petrarca 


If there be any one can take my place 

And make you happy whom I grieve to grieve, 

Think not that I can grudge it,
but believe 
I do commend you to that nobler grace, 

That readier wit than mine, that sweeter face; 

Yea, since your riches make me rich, conceive 

I too am crown'd, while bridal crowns I weave, 

And thread the bridal dance with jocund pace. 

For if I did not love you, it might be 

That I should grudge you some one dear delight;

But since the heart is yours that was mine own, 

Your pleasure is my pleasure, right my right, 

Your honourable freedom makes me free,
And you companion'd I am not alone. 




13


E drizzeremo gli occhi al Primo Amore. - Dante 

Ma trovo peso non da le mie braccia. - Petrarca 


If I could trust mine own self with your fate,

Shall I not rather trust it in God's hand? 

Without Whose Will one lily doth not stand, 

Nor sparrow fall at his appointed date; 

Who numbereth the innumerable sand, 

Who weighs the wind and water with a weight, 

To Whom the world is neither small nor great, 

Whose knowledge foreknew every plan we plann'd.

Searching my heart for all that touches you, 

I find there only love and love's goodwill 

Helpless to help and impotent to do, 

Of understanding dull, of sight most dim; 

And therefore I commend you back to Him 

Whose love your love's capacity can fill. 




14 


E la Sua Volontade è nostra pace. - Dante 

Sol con questi pensier, con altre chiome. - Petrarca 


Youth gone, and beauty gone if ever there

Dwelt beauty in so poor a face as this; 

Youth gone and beauty, what remains of bliss?

I will not bind fresh roses in my hair, 

To shame a cheek at best but little fair,--

Leave youth his roses, who can bear a thorn,--

I will not seek for blossoms anywhere,

Except such common flowers as blow with corn.

Youth gone and beauty gone, what doth remain? 

The longing of a heart pent up forlorn, 

A silent heart whose silence loves and longs; 

The silence of a heart which sang its songs 

While youth and beauty made a summer morn,

Silence of love that cannot sing again.

________________________________

Pulled back into the Pre-Raphaelite goodness of Dante Gabriel Rossetti and his sister Christine today, by the auction of "Proserpine" and ensuing discussion with George Wallace.
This, gentle reader, is the reason I am completely unsuccessful at any and all attempts at love poetry.
What more could be added?

515

Horse corrals
Picket fence
Slanting rays
Fallen trees

Wood fire smoke
Ancient pines
Beaver dam
Swampy marsh

Narrow Bridge
Fall Clean-ups
Parsonage
Old Snufftown

Sagging barns
Rusted cars
Piled rock walls
Lonely hearth

Crooked cross
Secret graves
Wagon ruts
Iron mines

6 mile thread
Winding road
Pathway home
Solace found

Jennifer D. Behnke - July 10, 2013 - On driving to my current home from childhood home, with my own children in the backseat with the same views 30 years later.

Hiking Crow Peak

On the blade of a knife
she walks into unknown
there is no other path
but this, her own.


Desolate pit below
a bloodied stumble lies
there is no light ahead
save from her eyes.


Does she walk stooped, trembling?
Fists in rage or fear clenched?
No, arms are heavenward raised
Soul in love drenched.


She clings to Love through pain,
doubt, scorn and betrayal.
Burning, breathing, hoping
ever faithful.


Maiden knight, armor clad
heroine of the world
What you carry in you
Mercy unfurled.


Jennifer D. Behnke - July 2, 2013. 
On returning home from Spearfish, SD, finishing the diary of St. Faustina, watching the Passion of St. Joan, and singing some Wagner.