#god i'd forgotten how good classic literature is

[goodnightmoonvale]

for the weird questions for writers meme: 32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

Of course, like probably any writer, I have reams and reams of quotes and lines and song lyrics that live in my head rent free. The Wasteland, by T.S. Eliot, that meandering morass of quotes and references to everything from pop culture to classical literature to scripture, is how my brain feels at all times. Lots of the recurring tags on my blog are lines that I've obsessed over at one time or another. 

So I might as well pick one of those. We'll go with the line "shall these bones live?" 

Originally, very originally, that line is from Ezekiel 37:3, which is a vision the Prophet Ezekiel had where the Lord brings him to a valley full of dried bones. The Lord says to Ezekiel 

Son of man, can these bones live? And I answered O Lord God, Thou knowest. 

And he said unto me, Prophesy upon these bones, and say unto them, O ye dry bones, hear the word of the Lord. 

(This chapter, incidentally, is also where the spiritual Dem Bones comes from, so I have a hard time reading that verse without a chorus singing "Oh hear de word of de Lord!!" in my brain) 

It's an extended metaphor about God gathering together the lost tribes of Israel, among other things, but what I'm actually referencing here is the T.S. Eliot poem Ash Wednesday, where he takes these verses about dry bones and turns them on their head. There is no prophet; God speaks directly to some bones, which are dry and disassembled and lying scattered in the desert. God asks the bones if they will live, and the bones basically say "sorry, I'm dead. I'd rather just sit here and be dead bones, because I'm probably better off that way. Not going to listen to your call, not even if you're God." 

And God said  Shall these bones live? shall these  Bones live? And that which had been contained  In the bones (which were already dry) said chirping:  ... And I who am here dissembled  Proffer my deeds to oblivion, and my love To the posterity of the desert and the fruit of the gourd.

It is this which recovers  My guts the strings of my eyes and the indigestible portions  Which the leopards reject.   ...Let the whiteness of bones atone to forgetfulness.  There is no life in them. As I am forgotten  And would be forgotten, so I would forget  Thus devoted, concentrated in purpose. And God said  Prophesy to the wind, to the wind only for only  The wind will listen.  . . .  Under a juniper-tree the bones sang, scattered and shining We are glad to be scattered, we did little good to each other,  Under a tree in the cool of day, with the blessing of sand,  Forgetting themselves and each other, united  In the quiet of the desert. This is the land which ye  Shall divide by lot. And neither division nor unity  Matters. This is the land. We have our inheritance. 

This poem overall is about a complicated relationship with faith, and has always been extremely meaningful to me. I've struggled with a complicated relationship to God and religion for a very long time now. It's always meant different things to me at different times, but I've always loved the image of plants and new life growing from old bones.  Of a person telling God "Maybe I'm really done this time"