“Renascence” Reflection
by Emrys Fir
From the dawn of our lives to the inevitable end, we are met again and again with experiences and questions that threaten the fragile walls within which we build our security. Despite the unique circumstances that shape our individuality, we find an infinite thread that weaves itself beyond the boundaries of the individual. It stretches beyond the boundary of time, and space, and cannot be confined to one definition. Here, at the threshold of where our senses and reason fail, stands the poet.
The voice of the artist peels back the layers of perception, laying its hand upon the pulse of the abstract and serving as the stage by which the Infinite may be seen. In a poem, one may find the path that leads deeper within oneself. The words become a bridge between us and the experiences of others, a capsule in which a morsel of a great infinity is contained. Not every piece of work must grapple with this concept so directly, but the essence of it is prevalent in Edna St. Vincent Millay’s writing.
I felt a kindredness with Millay while reading “Renascence.” Its themes that grapple with the divine are timeless and recur throughout the history of art and poetry, but not often have the voices of young women been immortalized. I related to her struggle against the barriers of a culture that distinguishes a difference between a “writer” and a “woman writer.” There is a chasm of respect that stands between the two.
In my own writing and creating, I often gravitate toward reflective, somber subject matter. I have always had a respect for work that approaches the frightening or challenging aspects of life with reverence and artistry. I also consider nature to be one of the most powerful forms of language through which we communicate, both in art and in our connection to the world at large. “Renascence” embodies these forms of storytelling with excellence. Millay depicts the emotional journey of empathy and introspection. She taps into the intimacy of being surrounded by the natural world, painting the earth as the cradle of our experiences, from joy to suffering.
In a way, reading the writing of a woman close to my age and who also lived in Maine, over a century ago, further supports the bridge that the arts provide. It proves that for all of our unique qualities, someone like us has always been here; there is a deeply interconnected web in which we all have a part.
I admire that the context in which her poem lost the competition helped bolster Millay’s career as a writer. It makes me consider how many of the surviving works that we have from history stood on the backs of greater artists of lesser renown in order to withstand the passage of time. It also makes me think that the creative spirit always finds a way. While contests and publishers may reward fame to the works (or writers) that meet their criteria, the world will always be rich with those whose gifts pull back the curtains to give us a glimpse of something greater beyond.
Emrys Fir is a writer, musician, and visual artist from southern Maine. She is currently a student at Southern Maine Community College and is in the process of editing and illustrating her first novel.
