THROUGH
MOUNTAIN MISTS
Early Settlers of
Their
Descendants...Their Stories...Their Achievements
Lifting the
Mists of History on Their Way of Life
By: Ethelene Dyer Jones
Last week’s column gave a
summary of the
family of Juan Wellborn and Emma Lance Reece.
Their son, Byron Herbert Reece (1917-1958) became the famous
poet and
novelist we are hearing more about recently as we through the Byron
Herbert
Reece Society seek to perpetuate his memory and his works.
Let’s take some “time-out” to enjoy a
bit of his inimitable poetry. Think of
relaxing by your fire or under a warm blanket during these cold days
and read
with meaning and absorption. I offer
first:
In
the Far Dark Woods Go Roving
Whenever the heart’s in trouble
Caught in the snare of years,
And the sum of tears is double
The amount of youthful tears,
In the far, dark woods go roving
And find there to match your mood
A kindred spirit moving
Where the wild winds blow in the
wood.
This poem was published in Bow Down in Jericho,
1950.
The mind is a remarkable organ
of the
body. When troubles perplex and answers
seem absent, when one is “caught in the snare of years,” there is a
quick
escape. This poem describes in brief but
exceptionally crafted lines how this escape is possible.
Just think of another, more pleasant
purview. Since Poet Reece loved the
woods, nature and everything about his mountain environment, he would
think of
the “far, dark woods” where he had walked and meditated.
They weren’t really that far away. Just
a thought away. And so it is with us. It’s not that we shirk from the troubles we
might be facing. Instead, a brief
refreshment, even in the mind’s eye, can bring release and restoration. Try replacing the “Far Dark Wood” (which
might seem foreboding to you) with your own favorite resting place. You will be surprised how much the
recollection will aid your ailing spirit.
Another poem, “The Speechless
Kingdom,” also published in his 1950 Bow
Down in Jericho collection, seems, to me, to be stating his
purposes
for writing. When I lead a writers’
workshop or speak to a group on the poetry of Reece, I always read this
poem as
his statement of purpose for writing.
What a calling he had, and how well he fulfilled it in his gift
of
poetry to us:
The
Speechless Kingdom
Unto a speechless kingdom I
Have pledged my tongue, I have
given my
word
To make the centuries-silent sky
As vocal as a bird.
The stone that aeons-long was
held
As mute through me has cried
aloud
Against its being bound, has
spelled
Its boredom to a crowd
Of trees that leaned down low to
hear
One with complaint so like their
own
--I being to the trees and ear
And tongue to the mute stone.
And I being pledged to fashion
speech
For all the speechless joy to
find
The wonderful words that each to
each
They utter in my mind.
I cannot add an iota or even a
thought to
such a proclamation of purpose for the poet.
To be the voice, the tongue for “a speechless kingdom,” the “ear
to trees,”
the “tongue to mute stone.” And,
furthermore to be able to “fashion speech” so that the very stones can
cry out,
the trees can register their voice, the skies stretched in silence
above are
heard through his poetry! What a gift,
and how well he executed his gift, his calling to allow us to see in
new and
vibrant ways the “Speechless Kingdom” for whom he spoke.
I need space to point out metaphor, simile,
personification, rhyme, rhythm, other poetic elements he employed with
such
expertise. But if you are one who likes
to pursue poetry on your own, I ask you to go back and reread each of
the
poems, absorbing all the nuances of excellent poetry you find in these
two
offerings from Reece.
The Reece family has a long and rich
heritage in
c2010 by
Ethelene Dyer
Jones; published Feb. 18, 2010 in The Union Sentinel, Blairsville,
GA.
Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
[Ethelene Dyer
Jones is a retired educator,
freelance writer, poet, and historian. She may be reached at
e-mail [email protected];
phone 478-453-8751; or mail 1708 Cedarwood Road, Milledgeville, GA
31061-2411.]
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