The moth sits on the speaker’s
windowsill, green fairy wings edged in blood.
The passing of night, however, comes with consequences. The following morning, the poor moth’s thin
wings are ragged and torn. The moth may have
appeared strong in the dim lamp-light, but the bright light of a
new day reveals imperfections.
This female moth, the speaker of the
poem reflects, is nothing more than a function of the life cycle of her
species. She will mate, lay eggs, and
die. Are humans really any different? We like to think that our actions will matter
in the future. But how many of our actions
will live on? Why does anything do
really matter, when we are all mortal in the end?
The mortality of this moth bothers
the speaker. We, moths as well as human
beings, all face the same end. What,
then, is the meaning of life, if we are no different from moths? For example, what good is learning
French? It’s all just brain chemicals,
which will someday become fertilizer. The
speaker of the poem seems to echo the famed wisdom of Solomon as expressed in
the book of Ecclesiasties: “Everything is meaningless” (Ecclesiastes 1:2b
NIV).
Still, we seem to have a human need to
search for meaning. “We lose ourselves
most happily in tasks that partake of the eternal,” the speaker of Erdrich's poem reflects, “And once
we realize that nothing really does, anything can” (Erdrich 21). These everyday actions, such as picking
apples, pulling weeds, and caring for children may seem trivial, the speaker
implies. But actions such as these shape
the world around us and impact future generations in ways which may not ever be
fully evident in our own lifetime.
Learning French, too, may have benefits
not apparent at first. Second languages
may improve communication, open wonderful new worlds, and even reduce the risk
of Alzheimer’s. Are actions truly
meaningless if they improve our (short) lives?
Even if these actions don’t “partake of the eternal”? Perhaps they really do, but we can’t see it
from our present point of view.
In the end, the speaker looks into the
moth’s eyes and accepts her. The moth
appears renewed, beautiful and strong. Touching
the moth even seems to burn the speaker’s fingers. Excessive meditation on mortality or futility
can result in unhealthy depression, but the moths in our lives should not stop
us from engaging in useful or enjoyable daily activities, gardening or
learning new languages, and living life to the fullest. Learning not to fear the moth has the
potential to unleash a powerful burning fire.
Who knows where this might lead?
Works Cited
Erdrich,
Louise. “Luna.” Sisters of the Earth. Edited
by Lorraine Anderson, Vintage, 2003. Page 20-22.
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