Albatross in Co. Antrim

Hi all!

I've been away on vacation sans technology (ok, just the computer really) for about a week, so I apologize for the delay in updates. But here's my next poem:

Albatross in Co. Antrim
by Robin Robertson

after Baudelaire


The men would sometimes try to catch one,
throwing a looped wire at the great white cross
that tracked their every turn, gliding over their deep
gulfs and bitter waves: the bright pacific albatross.

Now, with a cardboard sign around his neck, the king
of the winds stands there, hobbled: head shorn,
ashamed; his broken limbs hang down by his side,
those huge white wings like dragging oars.

Once beautiful and brave, now tarred, unfeathered,
this lost traveller is a bad joke; a lord cut down to size.
One pokes a muzzle in his mouth; another limps past,
mimicking the skliff, sclaff of a bird that cannot fly.

The poet is like this prince of the clouds
who rides the storm of war and scorns the archer;
exiled on the ground, in all this derision,
his giant wings prevent his marching.

This poem's a bit confusing to me...it seems a mix of the reflection of a poet's role in society - to cast judgment and comments about without really being a person, as if the poet is a thing or a role we have rather than a human being in and of itself...the albatross is a nice comparison to God and holiness, purity and simplicity, innocence and childhood. All things good. Perhaps the author here is trying to align a poet to this idea of greatness and superiority, of compassion and hierarchy, giving him/her the ability to assess the world in a non-biased manner...The weight of the bird's (and thus poet's) burden to make assessments and judgments of the world is heavy...so cumbersome that he cannot walk or fly, but simply hobble along...

Perhaps we're all like the albatross in life, going through the motions aimlessly and passing judgment on others as if we know and understand and can see all that presents itself to us...in reality, birds and humans alike can be so easily struck down and caught, like the albatross is in this poem by other men. Birds, like humans and poets, are delicate creatures, and we must treat them and therefore ourselves and each other with compassion and sensitivity, giving us each the chance to be heard and appreciated, even if we're not always understood. Respect one another, and only then can we fly on.