Saturday, August 28, 2004

Hudna's Regret (1987/2004, #242)

i.
Don't tell me that I'm out of touch
for doing nothing: I've done too much.

ii.
The one thing that I didn't do
was the only thing I wanted to.

The Back Story: A poem written in a dream, literally.

I had a dream last night that I was at some sort of weird artists retreat, where they put us is this cavernous old house that doubled as some sort of hospice or another. The artists were required to spend time talking with the dying people, looking for inspiration. I met with a couple of old women who were worried because their dog was ill and was going to have to be put to sleep. Then I went down a tunnel of some sort and came to another room where a woman named Hudna was sitting up in her bed. She rambled in a language I didn't understand, and then uttered one clear sentence in English. I wrote her words down (in the dream) and moved on to another room, and finally out of the building, where I found that I was walking on crutches that somehow didn't require me to actually ever put either of my feet on the ground, allowing me to bounce rapidly away to another old building in the woods. I realized it was a school, and I had to get to class, but I couldn't remember my schedule or my locker number. I was digging in my backpack and pulled out the piece of paper with the words that Hudna had said written on it. In the dream, I thought, "I wonder if she ever heard my song 'The Disinclined'?"

And then I woke up. I laid in bed focussing on the dream so I would remember it, and then it occured to me that there was a line in the actual song 'The Disinclined' that worked as the perfect palinode compliment to Hudna's line, right down to the number of syllables in each line. So that's why this has a a 1987/2004 date: the first stanza is from 'The Disinclined' and the second stanza is the words that Hudna said in the dream. I think that's pretty dang cool when my subconscious mind starts writing for me.

And to really wrap this up in a completely bizarro fashion, after I wrote these words down, I went and googled "Hudna" to see where that name/word had come from. Here's what I found: "The Arabic word 'Hudna', which denotes a cease-fire for a fixed duration, dates back to the time of The Prophet himself. Throughout the centuries since, it has come up again and again in the annals of the wars waged by Muslims: with each other as well as with those of other religions." That borders on the positively sublime, doesn't it?

Just for the sake of completeness/closure, here's the original words of the full song that leant one of its lines to this poem:

The Disinclined (1987)

Don't tell me that I'm out of touch
for doing nothing: I've done too much.
Don't tell me that it's not the same,
for yesterday, tomorrow came.
I used to care now I don't mind,
for I have joined the disinclined.

Don't tell me that I'm out of touch:
If it's worth doing, it's worth too much.
Don't tell me that I live a lie.
If I don't live, I'll never die.
I used to care and grow distressed,
until I joined the dispossessed.

Don't tell me that I'm out of touch
with this and that and such and such.
Don't tell me that I'm missing out.
With no beliefs, I'll have no doubts.
I used to care, now life is sweet
for I have joined the obsolete.

Don't tell me that I'm out of touch,
the act of denial's my strongest crutch.
Don't tell me that I'll cease to be.
When I'm translucent, I am free.
I used to care, then anomie
brought out what was the best in me.