It is one of those days when I have a sense of melancholy grip me. I let my mind unwind and hope that in mundane things it will forget the strain of melancholy but it doesn’t and it picks and chooses what it sees , remembers and reads. So, today very early in the morning Wordsworth made an appearance not in his beautiful Daffodil way but in a more poignant thought of Lucy. The “Lucy Poems” are a well known group of poetry by the poet William Wordsworth. I bring to you one piece from them.


SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways

Beside the springs of Dove,

A Maid whom there were none to praise

And very few to love:

A violet by a mossy stone

Half hidden from the eye!

–Fair as a star, when only one

Is shining in the sky.

She lived unknown, and few could know

When Lucy ceased to be;

But she is in her grave, and, oh,

The difference to me!

            William Wordsworth

I don’t want to indulge in the background to this poem which is vast and also the critique for this and other Lucy poems, they are not my goal. What is however, my goal today is to share a thought. We all face a loss of some kind or the other. The loss of a human close to us is perhaps the most difficult. In the greater context of life, loss of any human life is difficult to deal with. Detractors may smirk at the RIP messages that fill the webspace when a celebrity death happens but I see it as a reminder that Death touches us all in the same way. We are reminded of our own fragility with each death we encounter and in some part of our mind we are thankful for our life, right at that moment. Personal loss of any kind is always hard to describe because it suffers from the stigma that society puts on mourning and what is to be considered the appropriate amount of time acceptable as time of mourning. What society does not realize or perhaps ignores for the greater good is, one cannot stop mourning the loss of a personal nature. Grief and sorrow do not come and go only because a time span has elapsed. There are certain loses which can never really be forgotten or forgiven (sometimes).

That is why … it is always the question of “the difference to me!”



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