Remember Remember

::re::member::dis::member::

Dear friends, 

In 2008, a report was issued from a group that had been tasked with the unenviable job of making recommendations to the London, Belfast, and Dublin governments about Remembering the Past. 

Long story short: this report with its 70+ recommendations on how a society that had borne the complexities of centuries of fraught British-Irish relationships was trashed on the day of its release. Why? There are practical reasons (some of the governmental parties had never had much buy-in; the proposed payment to bereaved families made no distinction between the complex terms of victim/perpetrator, and so on). But there is another reason too — civic remembering is difficult to do. 

Remembering can seem like merely a cognitive concept until you consider a possible antonym: dismember. Anybody who thinks of dismemberment may immediately think of A'Hed Bseiso, a 14 year old in Gaza injured by Israeli shelling. In order to save her life, her medic uncle had to amputate her leg at home, without anaesthetic. 

What does re-membering mean for the dis-membered? I do not know. The past cannot be undone. But — we know this, I know — to remember it may mean that we can give something to the present that constitutes the conditions for courage in the present. 

Forgetting sometimes gets a bad press too — but there are many peace workers who speak of the need for us to have even temporary forgetting, because to constantly remember horror is its own trauma. So they speak about remembering well, also making new memories, also forging new societies where atrocities are marked and dealt with and circumstances amended so the past is less likely to reoccur. It takes courage to remember, but some conflicts dismember the heart too, the place where the cor of courage emerges. 

Belfast, July 2024. Photo by Pádraig Ó Tuama

I’ve been thinking of remembering — and the poem below by Christina Rosetti — since I saw a sticker on an electrical box in Belfast the other day. Don’t forget to remember it said. I liked the play on it, and how in a city like Belfast remembering is a word that elicits strong feelings. Belfast’s far from unique: there are strong feelings about remembering anywhere there’ve been policies of silencing, erasure, and denial. 

Remember

Remember me when I am gone away, 
         Gone far away into the silent land; 
         When you can no more hold me by the hand, 
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay. 
Remember me when no more day by day 
         You tell me of our future that you plann'd: 
         Only remember me; you understand 
It will be late to counsel then or pray. 
Yet if you should forget me for a while 
         And afterwards remember, do not grieve: 
         For if the darkness and corruption leave 
         A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, 
Better by far you should forget and smile 
         Than that you should remember and be sad.

Christina Rosetti; this poem is in the public domain

Christina Rosetti’s poem, ostensibly written in the imperative voice of an individual who is facing their own death, asks much of our remembering: to remember the one who is gone, to remember the body, when the future is reshaped by absence, when the possibility of change and newness feels like a betrayal of the pain of the past. The poem ends on a possibility of smiling, but that’s contingent “for if the darkness and corruption leave.” I like the sound of that word “leave”. Until then, we’ll remember.

Remembering is complex: we remember different things and do not know how to place what one group remembers alongside that of another group. It is completely understandable that our remembering causes conflicts: how to remember well together? This is a civic task, not done alone and not done easily. Even when a society produces reports — like the one I mentioned above — that’s often not enough. 

I like the idea of the wisdom of Rosetti’s poem, but it seems to be one written when a good death was envisioned for the speaker. We are in times when we are all hearing about horrific deaths, where remembering and forgetting both seem like an insult, when the deaths are so damned unnecessary. How do we remember well together? I do not know, but I will try anyway. 

I’m curious what it is that remembering keeps alive for you. Does this propel you toward continued advocacy and action? What has it achieved for you? How?

The On Being offices are closed for a few weeks, so there won’t be a Substack from me until till the 25th of August. Til then, may we remember well, remembering what it is that we must, in order that the — sometimes distant — possibility of safety may emerge in the present.

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Poetry in the World

A list of events: Online; in the US (Keene Valley and Rhinebeck, NY; Kent, OH); England; and the Scottish island of Iona 

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August 7 at 6-7:30pm (Eastern Time, US), online 

I’ll be exploring conflict and change through poetry at an online event in partnership with the International Center for Cooperation and Conflict Resolution at Columbia University. You can register for free here. 

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August 10–11, Keene Valley, New York, US 

I’ll be speaking and sharing at a weekend of events titled “Exploring Spirit and Reconciliation,” held at Keene Valley Congregational Church UCC. Go here to learn about the weekend’s activities and to register.

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August 23–25, Northamptonshire, England 

I’ll be at the Greenbelt Festival, and, among other events, I will be interviewing the brilliant Jenny Mitchell (whose poem “A Man in Love with Plants” we featured on a Season 7 episode of Poetry Unbound). You can go here to learnabout the festival.

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September 19–21, Kent, Ohio, US

I’m looking forward to being part of the 40th anniversary of the Wick Poetry Center at Kent State University, alongside Naomi Shihab Nye, Jane Hirshfield, and Adrian Matejka. You can register here, and find more information about the celebratory events here. 

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October 6–11, Rhinebeck, New York, US

I’m back for a week at Omega (just two hours north of NYC) for a week of reflection on poetry, poetry prompts, and group discussions. Expect lovely people, gorgeous surroundings and food, and conversations about how poetry opens your world. Learn more here. 

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March 10–15 and March 18–23 2025, Isle of Iona, Scotland

I’m holding two Poetry Unbound retreats on the gorgeous Scottish island of Iona. Each retreat is the same. Both retreats are booked up, but you can get on the waiting list by contacting the folks at the St. Columba here.