Wahrheit und Dichtung
by Bill Yarrow
When I was eight years old, I stepped into
a snow bank in Pennsylvania and sank
in over my head. I remember looking up
through a hole in the snow and seeing
only brazen emptiness. I don't remember
feeling fear. I remember thinking, “This
is interesting.” Finally, I rescued myself
by pulling myself up on the hardened crust.
My family moved to Provo, Utah, where my
father took a railroad job. One day, the train
he was working was hit by an avalanche and
derailed. The snow broke the windows and
rushed in, filling the cars. Most of the passengers
suffocated. My father carved a breathing space
and waited for the rescuers. They skidded to the
accident, but they took too long. He didn't make it.
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Author's Note
This poem appeared in The Orange Room Review and then was republished in my chapbook WRENCH (erbacce-press 2009) .
The title is a reversal of Goethe's title Dichtung und Wahrheit (translated as Poetry and Truth).
This piece has appeared in Fictionaut already. I'm "republishing" it in honor of the snow in Chicago today which so reminds me of my childhood back East.
The poem appears in Pointed Sentences (BlazeVOX, 2012).
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Yes.
Thanks for passing this by us again, Bill. "Wahrheit und Dichtung" -- so stressed, so staring into that space the poem stares into, with a hardness that matches its message.
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Good piece, Bill. I like the whole poem, but the imagery, the moment of the piece, the break of the lines in that second stanza are so strong. The emphatic voice stays in the head.
Heart wrenching, powerful poem, Bill. Terrible in its content, but wonderful in its execution.
"I remember thinking, “This
is interesting.”"
I think that's the bedrock consciousness of the child who matures into a poet.
Thanks to all who responded and for the great comments.
I don't want to mislead anyone in terms of the autobiographical facts in this poem.
The poem has two parts corresponding to the two German words in the title.
The first stanza is "wahrheit" or truth. All the details in it are true.
The second stanza is "dichtung" or poetry, that is, fiction. Everything in that stanza is invented.
My family never moved to Utah. I spent my whole life until college in a suburb of Philadelphia. My father didn't work for a railroad. He owned and ran a penny arcade on the boardwalk in Ocean City, MD. He didn't die in an avalanche. He died at 62 from mesothelioma caused by exposure to asbestos from working in a shipyard when he was a young man.
So, none of the literal facts in the second stanza are true. The emotional truth of the writing? That might be another story.
All covered with snow: a boy successfully rescues himself in the first paragraph; his father dies waiting for rescuers in the second. Truth and poetry, stranger than fiction.
Bill, this is lovely, more "factual" sounding than some of your other poetry. I like how you split stanzas into the two German words and that they resonate through the elegant word choices. Even without your explanations above, it was fun to try to figure out truth or fiction, as it is with any writer. *
Hell of a story. Brings back bad memories, though--of snowfalls and temps. of forty below.*
Very finely balanced as J. notes, a hint of nemesis in that what is given must be paid for. And that "brazen emptiness"-- what a phrase!
A formidable work.
I am certainly grateful you re-published this, otherwise I may have missed it - and that would have been quite a loss.
Powerful and beautifully executed. Skilled, with no filler,nothing missing or misplaced.That's your particular genius I think.
Wow - amazing, Bill. Brilliantly told - a formidable work, indeed *.
great prose poem.
Powerful and I absolutely loved the opening. The whole poem is amazing and has such a wonderful voice to it.
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I was immediately drawn to read the piece because of the inversion of the Goethe.
I appreciate how narrative it is and the juxtaposition of the boy's truth to the fictional father's story.
Powerful work, Bill.
This is perfection, Bill. *
painfully perfect indeed.
Tough and wonderful.
How could I not come to something called Wahrheit und Dichtung? I already wondered how you'd encapsulate those two themes here. I really like the strong images. The looking out of the hole. The waiting. The seeing.
Truth comes in many many forms. Glad I came here tonite, Bill.
*
The windows in both pieces, the spaces to breathe. Wonderful symmetry to the two stanzas. Powerful stuff. Peace *
A tough story with strong and wonderful writing. *
Lovely, Bill, The last images so sad and perfect.
Oh my. Oh yes. *