"The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils."
--Merchant of Venice. Lorenzo
Claiming that secular music and beard-trimming are forbidden according to precepts of Islam, the Taliban’s virtue and vice squads recently renewed their tendentious order banning public music in the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan. They also put barbers on notice that it is forbidden to snip facial hairs on all male citizens (women’s facial hair may be groomed according to custom). In the past, musicians were beaten or imprisoned for making music, and thousands of musical instruments were destroyed by the moral guardians of Taliban’s law. To beat back the corrosive influences from American and other invasive cultures, the Public Order Police now make ready to uphold the harshly ascetic, ultra-conservative tenets of social and public behavior.
By banning music, an artistic fraternal twin of poetry, a consequential measure of well-being is denied to the human spirit. Like burning books, censoring poetry and music is a destructive and supercilious act, diminishing every living soul. Part of the human experience has always been the making of music and poetry, and, in so doing, we pass the threshold of the ordinary and enter the extraordinary. Even so, creative expressions are as natural as breathing. Though the men in town may have long, unruly, and magnificent beards, without music or poetry, we fall far short of our capacities. Music and poetry are conjoined, as much a part of humanity as is a beating heart.
Leaving Afghan barbers and musicians for another time, another quibble, my focus here is poetry. Poetry in its musical form originated as a song or a chant or an oral history or a performance reenacting a successful hunt. Written expressions were engraved on cave walls, on rock faces, or on runestones. These expressions were and still are palpable efforts to record the libretto in us, our story, our necessary artistry, our poetry.
Inherent in us is poetic thought. Remember the songs and stories we shared during our preschool days? Children’s poetry brings a child to the threshold of education by using phonemic awareness and cognitive contexts. The whimsical images and rhymes in Mother Goose introduced many children, including me, to Humpty Dumpty, Little Bo-Peep, Old Mother Hubbard, Jack and Jill, among other fanciful characters. From these ditties, a child begins to explore the provinces of creativity and the power of language, which engender love for reading and learning. And so foundational building blocks of education are laid.
The value of poetry is seldom spotlighted, especially in America. Now more than ever, however, considering sectarian turmoil, political discords, and climate changes that forecast a melting world, poetry can be a force that brings an understanding of our roles and an appreciation of the complex emotions across the spectrum of humanity. Not to overstate the value of poetry, but I believe that its merits bring human expression to an apex, the voice of humanity rising above the din. That voice exposes the inner beauty and the unprepossessing landscape of human beings, the stewards of all we know of this world. Rumi, the 13th century Persian poet, encapsulated this thought when he insisted: “Raise your words, not voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder.”
Poetry is not an abstract puzzle that has some meaning only a few brilliant critics can unwrap. No, it is a celebration of who we are, a description of our world, an expression that is difficult to express, and an affirmation of who we are and what we may become. Rather than distorting our understanding, poetry renders clarity, sometimes in life-changing ways.
Dylan Thomas weighed the contribution poetry makes, summing follows: “A good poem is a contribution to reality. The world is never the same once a good poem has been added to it. A good poem helps to change the shape of the universe, helps to extend everyone’s knowledge of himself and the world around him.”
Hear, hear!