Tuesday, May 13, 2025

Rosa 'Zéphirine Drouhin' 13 May 2025

 

It was not Death,for I stood up, Emily Dickinson

 It was not Death, for I stood up,

And all the Dead, lie down—

It was not Night, for all the Bells

Put out their Tongues, for Noon.

 

It was not Frost, for on my Flesh

I felt Sirocos—crawl—

Nor Fire—for just my Marble feet

Could keep a Chancel, cool—

 

And yet, it tasted, like them all,

The Figures I have seen

Set orderly, for Burial,

Reminded me, of mine—

 

As if my life were shaven,

And fitted to a frame,

And could not breathe without a key,

And 'twas like Midnight, some—

 

When everything that ticked—has stopped—

And Space stares all around—

Or Grisly frosts—first Autumn morns,

Repeal the Beating Ground—

 

But, most, like Chaos—Stopless—cool—

Without a Chance, or Spar—

Or even a Report of Land—

To justify—Despair.

 

My grandmother, María de los Dolores Reyes de Irureta Goyena must have had this mourning band made (I never asked her) in 1918 when my grandfather Don Tirso de Irureta Goyena died in 1918 at age 30. It is Stirling Silver and perhaps the black part could be black coral.

The bracelet has been in the family since. My mother wore it not only when my grandmother died in 1970 but also for going to the opera or the theatre as she thought the it had a sober but elegant beauty.

When I meet my oblivion our family jewels, including this bracelet, will probably not be worn by any of my two daughters or two granddaughters. It seems that in this century wearing jewels at social functions, operas, and theatres is no longer a custom. I am perhaps the only person left with memory of every one of those jewels and how my grandfather, Don Tirso, had them made in Paris for my grandmother.

When I saw this fading Rosa ‘Zéphirine Drouhin’ in a little bowl of water in my dining room I had the idea of scanning it with the bracelet. I do think that the rose, as it fades away, does show a mournful beauty.

When my grandfather died in Manila , in those times people went into an extended period of mourning for about a year. In Spanish the word is luto which comes from the Latin word luctus which stands for grief.

There are photographs in our family album of my grandfather wearing a black armband. I remember even my father wearing one when a relative had died.

My mother wore it not only when my grandmother died in 1970 but also for going to the opera or the theatre as she thought the it had a sober but elegant beauty.

 

More Emily Dickinson blogs

 Doubly Grateful

A Slash of Blue

For I - inhabit Her

In Ceaseless Rosemary

The Morns are meeker

A Favourite Just Noticed 

All the Witchcraft that we need 

It only gives our wish for blue 

My heart is laden 

Of bronze and blaze

The red and the white 

A Lady Red

Hands 

I took my power in my hands 

That clarifies the sight 

 Nature rarer uses yellow

Rosemary white and a bit of yellow 

Nature rarer uses yellow

Luck is not chance 

T is iris sir 

The white heat

I tried to be a rose 

nature rarer uses yellow 

The Tulip

Nor would I be a poet 

November left then clambered up
You cannot make remembrance grow
November
the maple wears a gayer scarf 

 A melancholy of a waning summer
Just as green and as white
It's full as opera
I cannot dance upon my Toes
a door just opened on the street 
Amber slips away
Sleep
When August burning low
Pink Small and punctual
A slash of blue
I cannot dance upon my toes
Ah little rose
For hold them, blue to blue