Sonnett Media

I was planning to shoot a video this week for YouTube in honor of Earth Day this weekend and National Poetry Month (April) when I learned, along with the rest of the world, about the violent shootings at Virginia Tech in Blacksburg, Virginia. I emailed my former business partner Deborah Dunstan to make sure her oldest daughter, who is a student at Virginia Tech, was okay. Thankfully, she was.

Reading about the magnitude of the shooting and hearing the victims stories made a great impression on me. Perhaps its because my family and friends have not been touched by the violent tragedies that have rocked this country in recent years: September 11th, Hurricane Katrina, the war in Iraq, etc. To hear and read about so many promising lives cut short by the acts one person seems to me one of the most horrible and frightening scenarios possible, even during these very troubled times.

Rereading poet Walt Whitman, I remember his mediation on life and death mirrored in the boundless grass that, for him, was an enduring symbol of primacy of life over the sorrow and loss of death. This vision, expressed in his poem “Song of Myself” and in the title of his book Leaves of Grass, gave me the idea for a tribute video for the victims of the Virginia Tech massacre.

I shoot the footage at a park and farm in southern Maryland and it features my son, Tyler, who graciously volunteered for the project in exchange for a chance run through the grass, wade in puddles and explore his favorite stream. It edited the video the same night, incorporating (with apologies) the beautiful guitar version of Vivaldi’s Concerto in D Major played by Sharon Isbin.

I have included the edited text I used below since I am aware that my voice is not always the clearest. The ellipses indicated my edits (with apologies to Walt):

A child said What is the grass? Fetching it to me with full hands;
How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he.

I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.

Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,
A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt,
Bearing the owner’s name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say Whose?

Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation.

…

And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.

Tenderly I will use you curling grass,
It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men,
It may be if I had known them I would have loved them,
It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon out of their mother’s laps.
And here you are the mother’s laps.

…

I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and women,
And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken soon out of their laps.

What do you think had become of the young and old men?
And what do you think has become of the women and children?

They are alive and well somewhere,
And the smallest sprout shows there is really no death,
And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it.
And ceas’d the moment life appeared.
…

For me, the spirit of Earth Day and National Poetry Month are not so far apart. Both events encourage us to stop, appreciate, and understand the beauty that we may overlook everyday. And it is nature’s precious beauty and sentiments expressed in a heart-felt poems that can help us all move from thoughts of pain, suffering, and death toward to promise of life, beauty, and the endurance of love.

Please remember the victims of this terrible tragedy by expressing your sympathy. Feel free to post a video response to my tribute video on YouTube or add a comment. If you can, donate to the Hokie Spirit Memorial Fund.

Embrace life and help grow hope today, on Earth Day and everyday. Thank you.