The Weeping White Broom
In the Land of Winter,
this country where I abide—
where the white cows plod
on with snowy horns,
and the monastery hazelnut trees are
pearly with new fallen drifts,
their nuts are frozen,
acacia-coloured,
speaking of the arid Negev
still in their shells.
In this Land of Winter,
monastic marble and cold,
I know something of Israel,
and the grief
before the rising.
The desert lands,
crackling with dust
and weeping white broom,
like Hagar weeping
while she throws her son-child
down under its branches,
and the shell of a man
reduced to ash.
For his judgement over
me has been like the coals
of the white broom . . .
Still in my shell,
I am a coal:
I am old as
brittle broom in the Negev,
knowing the provision
of repentance,
but abiding,
pouring wax
for hand-dipped candles
in beeswax,
the golden mass:
a fiery Saturn,
held in its many moons,
from Titan to moonlets.
Dear poets,
When will I become soft, and malleable as wax?
I visit Bear Mountain like a bird.
Winter is as new
as the poplar trees,
their bark like paper in piles,
on which I have written many things.
Black and white; ink and lace.
In this street through the silent woods,
I wander, solitary.
Where all is quiet, I hear singing
of the waters,
I feel the kind brush against my porcelain skin
of snowflakes like painted glass,
and feel the humming of the Clare Angel,
a quiet messenger in the wood.
To know which path to take
in the humming wood,
my sure feet direct me
after all these years,
and I follow the sound
of the stream.
The path was once worn
but now it has grown over.
Has it been so long?
My Earth,
here, in the city of the wood,
the windows of my soul-home look out
over the treetops,
observing sainthood of my sisters,
through the muntin glass I see poplars decorated
by snow, white on white.
My soul-home is a woodland cottage,
almost invisible under the maze of trees,
grown mossy from water stains
of rain and snow,
with dark eyes
that have almost lost their innocence.
Dear poets,
it is here that my branch pen is dipped in wax
and I write like a seal
against pain,
inviting sorrow, then
creating myself again and again
with each word of solace.
If there was no sorrow,
how would I know what to say
to bring joy?
I was once a sapling, but now I am old
like Bear Mountain.
I know
each tree magically woven
into the cedar-shadowed valley,
as I flew like an owl
—the deer stealthy
under the canopy
of paper leaves.
There is no tomorrow in the Land of Winter
unless our brown patchwork clothes
falling off our bones
are traded for healer’s blue-linen garments
on supple skin,
and owl’s wings,
unless our brutal guns
become bow and arrow—
instruments of care.
How we move says a lot about us.
The trees are our fortress.
Footnote: “For his judgement over /me has been like the
coals /of the white broom . . .” refers to verse Psalm 120:4: "He will punish you with a warrior’s
sharp arrows, with burning coals of the broom tree." The verse compares
God's judgment for deceitful tongues to "burning coals of the broom
tree," representing fierce, consuming punishment from a plant known for
its intense, long-lasting desert fire, symbolizing harsh judgment for
falsehood.
Poetry Analysis:
“ The Weeping White
Broom: Elegy Three,” marks a decisive inward turn in the Little Elegies
sequence, moving from landscape and performance into conscience, judgment, and
vocation. While the poem retains the shared geography of the “Land of Winter,”
it overlays this northern monastic world with the deserts of Israel and the
Negev, creating a double geography in which cold restraint and burning judgment
coexist. This structural convergence situates grief not merely as loss or
concealment, but as refinement—an experience that exposes the soul to moral
heat. The speaker does not stand apart from judgment but abides within it,
echoing the psalmist’s posture in Psalm 120, where deceit and suffering are
answered not with escape, but with endurance under divine fire.
The governing symbol of
the white broom bush anchors the poem in a deeply biblical ecology. In
Scripture, the broom (rotem) is both a place of despair and survival: Elijah
collapses beneath it in exhaustion (1 Kings 19), and Hagar weeps beneath its
branches when she believes her son will die (Genesis 21). Midreshet B’erot Bat
Ayin explicitly names the broom as the “Weeping White Broom Bush,” interpreting
its resilience as a sign of emunah—faith that persists under hopelessness.
Isaacson’s poem aligns closely with this midrashic tradition. By invoking
Hagar’s grief and Psalmic judgment (“burning coals of the broom tree”), the elegy
presents sorrow as purifying rather than annihilating. The line “Still in my
shell, / I am a coal” internalizes divine judgment, suggesting that grief, when
received faithfully, becomes the very medium through which transformation is
wrought.
Midway through the
poem, the symbolism shifts from burning to malleability—from coal to wax. This
transition marks a theological movement from judgment to vocation. Wax, unlike
coal, is softened by heat and shaped by care; it does not resist fire but
yields to it. The speaker’s question, “When will I become soft, and malleable
as wax?” recalls the prophetic language of Jeremiah 18, where clay in the
potter’s hands signifies surrender to divine reshaping. Writing itself becomes
a sacramental act: the branch dipped in wax seals against pain, echoing
Revelation’s imagery of sealing and protection. Here, poetry is not aesthetic
indulgence but covenantal labour—an offering forged through sorrow that has been
written through the ages, symbolized in the video by images depicting the same writer
in the 1800’s.
The poem’s later
movement into memory and geography—Bear Mountain, the Fraser Valley, deer beneath the canopy—extends the theology of grief into time and
inheritance. These recollections are not nostalgic retreats but ethical
markers, aligning posture, movement, and attention with moral identity. The
line “How we move says a lot about us” resonates with Simone Weil’s insistence
that attention itself is a moral act, and with Wendell Berry’s agrarian
theology, where right relation to land reveals right relation to God. Even the
call for weapons to become bows rather than guns reflects a biblical economy of
restraint and skill, recalling Isaiah’s vision of tools transformed and
violence disciplined into care—“they shall beat their swords into plowshares”
(Isaiah 2:4, ESV; cf. Micah 4:3, ESV).
Note: Simone Weil (1909-1943), a French mystic and philosopher was a teacher who went to work in a factory to identify with the poor working class, and died from fasting and restricting her food intake to identify with Nazi-occupied France. "'Beauty captivates the flesh in order to obtain permission to pass right to the soul.' It constitutes, then, another way in which the divine reality behind the world invades people's lives: where affliction conquers with brute force, beauty sneaks in and topples the empire of the self from within."
(Wikipedia CC-BY-SA verbatim is published in accordance with license https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en)
Comparison:
Structurally, Elegy
Three completes a deepening arc within the series: from burial and waiting
(Elegy One), through spectacle and withdrawal (Elegy Two), into refinement and
faithful endurance. The poem refuses consolation without cost and resurrection
without judgment. Like T.S. Eliot’s Ash-Wednesday, it inhabits the space
between desolation and renewal, where faith persists not through certainty but
through obedience and craft. In aligning the weeping white broom with Hagar’s
grief and Israel’s deserts, Isaacson situates mourning within a biblical
tradition that understands suffering as a crucible for vocation. Grief, here, is
not an obstacle to faith, but its proving ground—where emunah is held fast
beneath the branches of judgment, waiting for life to speak again.
The Weeping White Broom Lexicon
A Lexicon
of Grief, Judgment, and Endurance
The Land of Winter
Symbolism: A place of restraint, silence,
and moral cold.
Theological Resonance: The season of waiting before resurrection; a
spiritual climate where faith is tested by absence rather than abundance.
White Broom (Rotem)
Symbolism: A desert shrub that shelters the
abandoned and fuels intense fire.
Theological Resonance: Biblical grief borne in extremity (Hagar,
Elijah); suffering that purifies and sustains emunah when hope appears
extinguished.
Hagar Weeping
Symbolism: Maternal despair beneath
judgment.
Theological Resonance: God’s presence in abandonment; grief that becomes
the site of divine provision rather than divine silence.
Burning Coals of the Broom
Symbolism: Long-lasting, consuming heat.
Theological Resonance: Divine judgment that refines rather than
annihilates; truth tested through endurance (Psalmic imagery).
The Shell
Symbolism: Protective hardness, emotional
enclosure.
Theological Resonance: The soul’s defense under trial; not rejection,
but preservation until softening is possible.
Coal
Symbolism: Compressed heat, latent fire.
Theological Resonance: A soul shaped by suffering, carrying judgment
inwardly as preparation for transformation.
Wax
Symbolism: Softened substance shaped by
heat.
Theological Resonance: Repentance and teachability; the yielding of the
self under divine fire.
Hand-Dipped Candles
Symbolism: Patient, repetitive craft.
Theological Resonance: Faith formed slowly through devotion; light born
of disciplined making, not spectacle.
Beeswax / Golden Mass
Symbolism: Purified offering, gathered
labour.
Theological Resonance: What is communal becomes holy; sweetness drawn
from toil and order.
Saturn and Its Moons
Symbolism: Vast time, distant orbit,
ordered gravity.
Theological Resonance: Endurance across ages; faith sustained by unseen
but governing forces.
Bear Mountain
Symbolism: Ancient stability, witness of
time.
Theological Resonance: Creation as moral memory; the endurance of the
earth alongside human aging.
Poplar Trees / Paper Bark
Symbolism: Fragile surfaces that bear
inscription.
Theological Resonance: The soul as manuscript; memory written through
exposure and vulnerability.
Ink and Lace
Symbolism: Permanence and delicacy held
together.
Theological Resonance: Truth spoken with restraint; strength expressed
through care rather than force.
The Clare Angel
Symbolism: Invisible guidance through
sound.
Theological Resonance: Vocational direction discerned through attention,
not command; a reference to Saint Clare and her monastic tradition.
The Overgrown Path
Symbolism: Forgotten ways, obscured
obedience.
Theological Resonance: Faithfulness requires rediscovery; righteousness
is not always maintained through visibility.
Soul-Home / Woodland Cottage
Symbolism: Interior dwelling, hidden life.
Theological Resonance: The heart as a monastic cell; sanctity cultivated
away from display.
Branch Pen Dipped in Wax
Symbolism: Writing as sealing act.
Theological Resonance: Language as covenantal resistance to despair;
words formed through suffering become protection.
Sorrow as Teacher
Symbolism: Pain that instructs rather than
silences.
Theological Resonance: Joy emerges only through grief understood; wisdom
born of loss.
Sapling to Old Tree
Symbolism: Growth through seasons of loss.
Theological Resonance: Maturity as survival; faith shaped over time, not
preserved in innocence.
Deer Under the Canopy
Symbolism: Quiet movement, attentive
survival.
Theological Resonance: Righteousness expressed through gentleness and
vigilance.
Brown Patchwork Clothes
Symbolism: Mortality, wear, decay.
Theological Resonance: The old self awaiting exchange; flesh marked by
time and labor.
Blue Linen Garments
Symbolism: Healing attire, priestly calm.
Theological Resonance: Restoration through consecration; renewal of the
body and spirit.
Guns Transformed to Bow and Arrow
Symbolism: Shift from brute force to
skilled restraint.
Theological Resonance: Ethical conversion of power; strength disciplined
by intention.
Trees as Fortress
Symbolism: Natural refuge, rooted defense.
Theological Resonance: Creation as sanctuary; God’s protection found in
the given world, not domination over it.
Comments
Post a Comment