This one is for Pfc. Bowe R. Bergdahl, from Hailey, Idaho, who is held captive somewhere in Afghanistan. I hoped I'd find an old postcard featuring an Idaho scene among my stash, and I did. Lewiston, the site of this postcard, isn't a close neighbor to Hailey, but I imagine most Idahoans think of Pfc Bergdahl as their own ..... and I imagine that he would love nothing better than to see this view from a plane on his way home to his family and fiance'.
Whether he is a hero, as the comments following this news article claim him to be, or whether he is a deserter, as one *Fox-News analyst intimated, are irrelevant to me. He's a 23-year-old, scared-as-hell human being held hostage by other human beings and when my mind goes there I can't stand the images it flashes for me to deal with.
Someone else hailed from Pfc. Bergdahl's town of Hailey, Idaho -- a great someone who also had his share of controversy during his lifetime.
Ezra Pound was born in Hailey in 1885 (read his bio). I selected the following two poems to wrap up this week's old postcard meditation.
In the Old Age of the Soul
- by Ezra Pound
I do not choose to dream; there cometh on me
Some strange old lust for deeds.
As to the nerveless hand of some old warrior
The sword-hilt or the war-worn wonted helmet
Brings momentary life and long-fled cunning,
So to my soul grown old -
Grown old with many a jousting, many a foray,
Grown old with many a hither-coming and hence-going -
Till now they send him dreams and no more deed;
So doth he flame again with might for action,
Forgetful of the council of elders,
Forgetful that who rules doth no more battle,
Forgetful that such might no more cleaves to him
So doth he flame again toward valiant doing.
- by Ezra Pound
Go, dumb-born book,
Tell her that sang me once that song of Lawes:
Hadst thou but song
As thou hast subjects known,
Then were there cause in thee that should condone
Even my faults that heavy upon me lie
And build her glories their longevity.
Tell her that sheds
Such treasure in the air
Recking naught else but that her graces give
Life to the moment,
I would bid them live
As roses might, in magic amber laid,
Red overwrought with orange and all made
One substance and one colour
Tell her that goes
With song upon her lips
But sings not out the song, nor knows
The maker of it, some other mouth,
May be as fair as hers,
Might, in new ages, gain her worshippers,
When our two dusts with Waller's shall be laid,
Siftings on siftings in oblivion,
Till change hath broken down
All things save Beauty alone.
*[See also "Maddow eviscerates Fox host who wants Taliban to murder captive American soldier." Topic is discussed about middle of video, right after words from Pres. Obama.]