Although penned by Barry, Robin, and Maurice Gibb, the Bee Gees, in 1968, somehow those words came into my head as I read of the passing of Omani poet Hilalah Al Hamadani, earlier this week. “Words” said Robin Gibb, “reflect moods, and was written after an argument about nothing. They can make you happy, or sad...”
So, it was with the sadness we learn of any passing, the even greater sadness when it is those of younger generations called before their time, and the deepest, most infinite distress when we learn of the circumstances. Without lingering too much, we can only trust, and have faith, that she remains eternally young in paradise. We cannot know God’s plan, and so it falls to us to be there for those of the family whose need is now greatest. For myself, I can only offer inspiration, from another iconic poet... another enchanter... another for whom words were a magic wand.
Emily Dickinson, the reclusive romanticist of the late 19th century wrote some 1,800 poems, published after her passing, things of beauty, the artistry of the silent thespian, yet some of her most meticulous words can be drawn from her conversations, and her letters. We know, for instance, that she was inspired in her youth, by a close acquaintance, Benjamin Newton, introducing her to the collected works of fellow American, Ralph Waldo Emerson, writing that she had been “touched by the secret spring,” and being poetically liberated by his words.
Of Newton himself, she wrote, “I had a friend, who taught me of immortality - but venturing too near himself - he never returned.” Of herself, she had a reluctant, self-deprecating awareness, saying, "I am small, like the wren, and my hair is bold, like the chestnut bur, and my eyes like the sherry in the glass that the guest leaves," leaving so much unsaid, so much to the imagination.
Yet, in that same wren-like form, she held such passion and compassion, and of a forbidden love, she wrote... “will you indeed come home next Saturday, and be my own again, and kiss me... I hope for you so much, and feel so eager for you, feel that I cannot wait, feel that now I must have you - that the expectation once more to see your face again, makes me feel hot and feverish, and my heart beats so fast... my darling, so near I seem to you, that I disdain this pen, and wait for a warmer language.” Can you feel it? Even though not poetry, it is purely poetic.
The history-making, first ever female participant in the ‘Millions Poet,’ competition in 2007 in Abu Dhabi, Al Hamadani clearly featured prominently, and carving significant respect with her compassionate expositions of traditional Arabic, and the more spontaneous Nabati poetry.
Also, a prominent radio and television media personality, social media was soon awash with tributes from her peers and colleagues this week. One commentator noted that she was inspired by her family, and her achievement in reaching the advanced stages of the ‘Millions Poet,’ when she demonstrated “talent and passion... leaving an indelible mark on the audience,” and “with her captivating poetry readings solidified her esteemed position, and now leaving a void in the literary world.”
Maybe then, we will consider Al Hamadani’s passing, in a classic, elegant, and beautiful, and romantic sense, celebrating her life, as clearly, in Dickinson’s immortal words... “Because I could not stop for death – he kindly stopped for me.”
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