I am not a frequent diary writer but today I was thinking about all the stories about Bowe Bergdahl and how it reminded me of a great poem by e.e. cummings.
Cummings wrote this poem because of his experiences after he was drafted into the Army in 1918. He had a brief meeting with another soldier who shared Cummings disgust for violence. Olaf disappeared after a confrontation with a superior officer and the rumor was he was taken somewhere to be brutalized.
If I remember correctly, I don't have my books at work, the poem had problems with publication because of the language used and the anti-war sentiment. In fact, Arizona State University charged three of its students who distributed this poem with "conducting oneself in manner that might discredit the university." The ASU lawyer conscientiously objected to charging the students. How ironic.
Cummings was very anti-war and a pacifist. One of his first works was based on his experience in the French Foreign Legion where he was an ambulance driver. He got in trouble and was put in a one cell jail along with 30 or 40 other criminals. The work is aptly named The Enormous Room.
This poem is one of his best and has many levels and deep meanings. The reason I am uncomfortably doing this diary today is to share my love of this poem and how it applies to the situation with Bowe Bergdahl today.
I hope that you read this poem slowly to get all of the meaning that you can. Please goggle the poem if you would like to explore all of the meaning. There are a few sites that provide analysis of the poem. I am a little surprised this poem does not have its own Wiki page, but that is besides the point. Remember this poem was written over 80 years ago, enjoy!
P.S. One last thing I have learned in reading Cummings is to read it without stopping first so that the words go into your brain like water flowing. What happens is the words paint a picture for you, sort of like stream of consciousness. Then you can go over the poem again to analyze it for yourself if you want. For some reason (I just read the poem through again) I find some emotion welling up in me like I want to cry. I find some odd beauty in this poem, as I do with many of Cummings poems.
i sing of Olaf glad and big
whose warmest heart recoiled at war:
a conscientious object-or
his wellbelovéd colonel(trig
westpointer most succinctly bred)
took erring Olaf soon in hand;
but--though an host of overjoyed
noncoms(first knocking on the head
him)do through icy waters roll
that helplessness which others stroke
with brushes recently employed
anent this muddy toiletbowl,
while kindred intellects evoke
allegiance per blunt instruments--
Olaf(being to all intents
a corpse and wanting any rag
upon what God unto him gave)
responds,without getting annoyed
"I will not kiss your fucking flag"
straightway the silver bird looked grave
(departing hurriedly to shave)
but--though all kinds of officers
(a yearning nation's blueeyed pride)
their passive prey did kick and curse
until for wear their clarion
voices and boots were much the worse,
and egged the firstclassprivates on
his rectum wickedly to tease
by means of skilfully applied
bayonets roasted hot with heat--
Olaf(upon what were once knees)
does almost ceaselessly repeat
"there is some shit I will not eat"
our president,being of which
assertions duly notified
threw the yellowsonofabitch
into a dungeon,where he died
Christ(of His mercy infinite)
i pray to see;and Olaf,too
preponderatingly because
unless statistics lie he was
more brave than me:more blond than you.