This poem has layers. I'm curious about what reactions it inspires in you — thoughts? I have so many! Let's chat.
Servants
by Faith Shearin
In college I read about Virginia Woolf and Edith Wharton
and I thought of their great minds and their long dresses
and their gilded friendships which involved tea
in the library or on the lawn. I thought of the places
they traveled and the weight of their trunks
and all the ways their marriages did or did not
please them. I thought of the dogs that followed
at their heels and the rooms and gardens they
decorated and the beaches where they
carried umbrellas. But I never once thought of
their servants. I didn’t think of the cook who
and I thought of their great minds and their long dresses
and their gilded friendships which involved tea
in the library or on the lawn. I thought of the places
they traveled and the weight of their trunks
and all the ways their marriages did or did not
please them. I thought of the dogs that followed
at their heels and the rooms and gardens they
decorated and the beaches where they
carried umbrellas. But I never once thought of
their servants. I didn’t think of the cook who
....
(Read the rest here.)
~~~~~~~~~~
The Poetry Friday round-up is being hosted this week by the lovely Sarah Grace Tuttle.
Photo thanks to Pixabay.
18 comments:
You find such precious poems, Karen. This brought more than one thing to my mind. Both of my grandmothers had those big old houses, with back stairs, always steep, and I learned that in earlier days, those were the servants' stairs. There, up in small rooms, they lived what few hours they had to themselves, went up and down according to the needs, as the poem shows, rising to make the fires, start the breakfasts, gather eggs, and on. Then, I remember on one trip to Germany, we had a tour of a castle, and one part, a kind of tunnel, was where they told us was the only place that servants could walk, moving to and from their duties. It was dark and unpleasant, and a long "trip" to other parts. In the poem, I love "stirring the day". Thanks for this "thought-filled" poem!
Thanks for all of that, Linda! I love your heart for the servants. I remember being at a friend’s big old house once, and seeing “servant stairs” in the kitchen. Although I love all the nooks, crannies, and quirks of old houses, that tiny, narrow passageway gave me such compassion for the people who historically were required to use it. (My friend, of course, did *not* have servants. :)) The tunnel you described is even worse. Shudder!
I love the line “stood over a pot of hot soup, stirring the day” … I did not grow up with household help, nor did I ever employ such, in my own home — early on, for many many years, *I* was the household help for other women, in their homes. So that's where I see myself, in the poem: I'm the one stirring the day, in between the diapers and feedings and reading books and writing poetry and raising my children, and the children of others … stir, stir, stir …
Oomph. Lives of luxury enabled by other lives of drudgery. The story of humanity, of each of us, to some degree or another. Thank you, Karen.
Wonderful poem (I love Shearin's work but hadn't seen this one). My first thought was that even in bygone times when the wealthy had servants, women were tasked with "running the household" -- a full time job (at least in their minds and in society), so I don't think they were totally idle with hours upon hours to devote to writing. It's ironic that even with modern day conveniences (which supposedly make household tasks easier), it's still challenging to find time to do everything. Bottom line: historically women supported men in their careers (ran the house, had the kids), freeing them to become Shakespeares and Dickenses. It also took awhile for female writers to be taken seriously.
I relate to this poem even in regards to Poetry Friday, finding time to pour a cup of tea and settle down to read...oh so busy with the busy. The poem is another reminder for me about priorities, keeping time for sacred endeavors instead of bogging down with wood cutting and water carrying. Doida
I think of this whenever I hear someone say "you have the same number of hours in the day as XYZ famous person", suggesting that the only reason we aren't all as successful as the rich and famous is lack of effort. NOPE. Taylor Swift doesn't have to pack her son's school lunches, fold endless loads of laundry, cook dinners and scrub toilets. She hires people to do that work for her, so she can focus on other things! I spend so much of my time on chores, and I live in the modern age with such mod cons as a dishwasher and washing machine - I can't even imagine being able to cope wither everything as my great-grandmother must've! If anything, poems like this remind me to give myself grace and be kind with myself - sometimes I feel down about not being able to write as much as I'd like, but the reality is that as a mom and wife and grown-up, I'm being pulled in many directions, and there really are only so many hours in the day!
I love how this poem highlights the work that goes into making space to create... so important, and not talked about nearly enough. Thank you very much for sharing it!
Trying to find time to fit everything in is so hard. Sometimes I wonder how I got it all done while I was still working full-time. I'm trying to prioritize my writing time more, but the days fill up so fast. Thank you for sharing this new-to-me poem!
Karen, thank you for always finding the best poems for us to ponder. This poem reminds me of Downton Abbey. ai have entered homes with stairs for the servants while antiquing and visiting historical homes. My cleaning team of ladies always make me think of how hard they work and wonder if they do the same when home. Have a great week.
"Gilded friendships" perhaps tilts its hat toward what the poet says later. Some years ago I toured Edith Wharton's "cottage" in the Berkshires in Mass., and the guide acknowledged that Wharton relied on a staff and was not exactly down on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor herself. This is a poem that makes us think!
I love all of these perspectives — thanks for chiming in, everyone! My thoughts when I read it (many of them similar to things you’ve all already expressed here):
I remember, years ago, reading about the daily routines of famous (male) writers and noticing that not a single one of them had to schedule anything around food, other than stopping their work to eat it. I thought, “Well, yeah, maybe I could do all they do if I didn’t have to slot in shopping, cooking, cleaning, childcare, household management, and everything else.” Then my mind went to the issue being one of not only traditional gender roles, but also of class, as Shearin aptly points out in this poem. Women who could afford household help could also afford to have more time to write (could afford “a room of one’s own.”) And yet, many writers who “have no time” still write. We all write at different paces, depending on our life’s circumstance — I started thinking about Toni Morrison, writing her first novel over many years when she was a single mom, working a day job in the publishing industry. There are as many ways to write as there are writers and the whole conversation fascinates me.
I'm totally using this poem as a prompt. I've found myself romanticizing about the past. Then, details about what also went on parallel sort of wakes me up and makes me glad that I live in the present.
I do think about the hidden people behind those we see, those we place on pedestals. It struck me as I watched John Bolton get into the back seat of his SUV, door being held by a driver. I think about the PR team that must stand behind Taylor Swift. These people's whole lives circle a life belonging to someone else. I would love to read their poems!
First of all, I felt such anger and frustration in the beating of those rugs! Perhaps that was a release for lots of pent up feelings...
But I also went straight to the life of Maria Madalena Santos Reinbolt. I went to an exhibit of her indescribable painting and embroidery at the Folk Art Museum in NYC last May. She was servant to Elizabeth Bishop and her "partner" and was fired because she was spending too much time on her own art. So there's the flip side to this poem...what if the servant is also an artist and perhaps a bit of a threat to her artist-employer as such?!?!
Linda, love the idea of using this one as a prompt!
And Patricia and Mary Lee, yes to reading the poetry of the people behind the scenes!
Mary Lee, I agree — I also felt the subtle but powerfully conveyed anger in those last lines about beating the rugs. The words “beat them with a broom” do all the heavy lifting needed there. And such interesting details about Maria Madalena Santos Reinbolt. One would like to think a woman writer would support the work of another artist. You’re sending me on a new rabbit trail — I must read more! :)
This poem reminded me of the Guilded Age which I just finished. I am a believer of the poem "Dust if You Must" which says there is so much more to life than cleaning.
Jone, yes, Jama recently shared “Dust if You Must” and it’s wonderful. :)
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