Years ago, I came across a selected collection of poetry by Stevie Smith. I enjoyed her quirky style, literary allusions, and dark humor. I felt as if I’d found a kindred spirit.
The dark humor, religious confusion, and obsession with death began to wear on me. I read a brief biography of her and found that she was indeed a troubled soul who dealt with illness and depression, and who even suffered a nervous breakdown. The shadows apparently continued to haunt her until the end of her life in 1971.
It’s not surprising that Sylvia Plath, who tragically committed suicide, apparently appreciated Smith’s poetry.
The darkness of some of her poetry began to cast a pall on my spirit. I too have struggled in the past with depression. I too have had struggles with faith. I learned that there are certain things and people I have to avoid, or with which I have to limit my contact. So I avoided reading more of her until recently.
I just finished another collection of hers, The Frog Prince and Other Poems. More of the same. Poems I enjoyed. Other poems that had me sadly shaking my head. One of the last poems was “Why do I …
Why do I think of Death as a friend?
It is because he is a scatterer
He scatters the human frame
The nerviness and the great pain
Throws it on the fresh fresh air
And now it is nowhere
Only sweet Death does this
Sweet Death, kind Death,
Of all the gods you are best.
Yes, I do have a dark and quirky sense of humor. I also think about death. But I also now have a much stronger faith that helps me to see and appreciate all the beauty in the world, and that views death as simply a step on the path to eternal life, not as an escape.
After finishing Smith’s book, I scribbled a clerihew - admittedly not a great one, but one that expresses my reactions.
Stevie Smith
left us with,
even long after her final breath,
poem after poem filled with dark humor and death.
I think I need to pray for her soul. I hope she is at peace.
I also think I need to read a writer who nourishes my soul. A little J.R. R. Tolkien perhaps!