This is one of my favourite songs in Ghosteen. Someone on YouTube pointed out that in Ireland, adding “teen” to a word can mean a little version of something; therefore, “Ghosteen” — little ghost — Arthur, the beloved son he lost.
I’ve heard Cave give his thoughts to a fellow grieving soul on the existence of spirits. His answer suggests that the poetry and comfort of this sentiment are more important to him than a definitive answer. I think he’s exploring the same thing here: just because something such as this might not be literally true, if it’s this personal, is it not okay for you to believe in it, if you’re inclined to? Why take that away from yourself or anybody else if that’s what they need to do. He permits himself to dream that he will see his son again, and that this may not be realistic is inconsequential if it allows him to feel any measure more connected to his memory. You’re rather fierce and wise, like Nick Cave, if you can practice poetry as a mode of thought about things so sacred.
We’ve been brutally hardwired — we can’t stop caring about some things, even though this means that we might have to mourn certain things eternally. Poetry is to my mind an apparatus that lets us think about truths that might not exactly belong to any category of science, or anything tangible, but mean something to us all anyway, something ineffable. We share truths. Whether we like poetry as such, I’d say we all think like this about certain things, which is rather imperfectly beautiful of us. You’re rather fierce and wise if you can practice poetry as a mode of thought about things so sacred, it’s entirely humane and generous.
I don’t want to tell you what I think about spirits, I want you to believe whatever helps you the most. My love to all those with their own Arthur’s — please do be kind to yourselves, let someone else ask that of you. It’s okay to spite the darkness.
This is one of my favourite songs in Ghosteen. Someone on YouTube pointed out that in Ireland, adding “teen” to a word can mean a little version of something; therefore, “Ghosteen” — little ghost — Arthur, the beloved son he lost.
I’ve heard Cave give his thoughts to a fellow grieving soul on the existence of spirits. His answer suggests that the poetry and comfort of this sentiment are more important to him than a definitive answer. I think he’s exploring the same thing here: just because something such as this might not be literally true, if it’s this personal, is it not okay for you to believe in it, if you’re inclined to? Why take that away from yourself or anybody else if that’s what they need to do. He permits himself to dream that he will see his son again, and that this may not be realistic is inconsequential if it allows him to feel any measure more connected to his memory. You’re rather fierce and wise, like Nick Cave, if you can practice poetry as a mode of thought about things so sacred.
We’ve been brutally hardwired — we can’t stop caring about some things, even though this means that we might have to mourn certain things eternally. Poetry is to my mind an apparatus that lets us think about truths that might not exactly belong to any category of science, or anything tangible, but mean something to us all anyway, something ineffable. We share truths. Whether we like poetry as such, I’d say we all think like this about certain things, which is rather imperfectly beautiful of us. You’re rather fierce and wise if you can practice poetry as a mode of thought about things so sacred, it’s entirely humane and generous.
I don’t want to tell you what I think about spirits, I want you to believe whatever helps you the most. My love to all those with their own Arthur’s — please do be kind to yourselves, let someone else ask that of you. It’s okay to spite the darkness.
@TonyWilson Beautiful sentiments, Tony. This was helpful, thank you.
@TonyWilson Beautiful sentiments, Tony. This was helpful, thank you.
@TonyWilson Beautiful sentiments, Tony. This was helpful, thank you.
@TonyWilson Beautiful sentiments, Tony. This was helpful, thank you.