Beyond Me. Carroll E. Arkema

too shocked to cause harm.

      Five pigs died that summer, out of one-fifty-six.

      We’d lose a couple each season; it just went with the business.

      II

      If the truck didn’t come soon, the dead body would bloat;

      It would swell up like a balloon, then burst open and rot.

      The smell was like a wall one could hardly penetrate;

      But a child can’t be put off; the unknown would fascinate.

      As I ventured in closer, I was scared back by flies,

      Who swarmed out in anger, seemed to head for my eyes.

      I jumped back in fear; almost ran away;

      But then, undeterred, I decided to stay.

      All this was new to me: what’s with all these flies?

      I didn’t know then that death nurtured new life.

      My next approach was slow, so as not to disturb.

      The flies had settled down; a low buzz was heard.

      The pig’s body had split open: I carefully peeked inside;

      I was almost revolted, for a second closed my eyes.

      Inside the pig’s pink flesh was this writhing black mass,

      Atop a wormy white mess, which I later learned were maggots.

      Full of awe and revulsion, this was all I could take.

      But I’ve never forgotten the knowledge I gained that day:

      What once was alive was not simply dead,

      But hosting new life and food for flies instead.

      III

      All through my childhood, just after we’d climbed in bed,

      I looked forward to and loved the Bible stories Mom read.

      A favorite was about Samson,21 the strongest man ever,

      Who’d killed a young lion with no weapon whatever.

      En route to see his girlfriend, a young lion threatened him,

      But “God’s Spirit came upon Samson,” and he killed it bare-handed.22

      Days later on another visit, he turned aside to see the carcass;

      A swarm of bees were inside it, making honey in the lion’s corpse.

      Samson took honey in his hands, and went on his way eating it;

      He gave some to his parents, not telling where he’d gotten it.23

      As a child, I loved the secrecy, because I too was scared of anger,

      Trying to make sense of mystery, navigate a world full of danger.

      In a rage at my brothers, I’d slammed a basketball;

      It came down on a kitten—my favorite one of all.

      It hobbled away, and I assumed it was all right.

      We couldn’t find it for days. In a window-well it died.

      Other deaths I’d observed, but I hadn’t been the cause.

      I was deeply unnerved; my outburst gave me pause.

      I’d killed this little kitten in my impulsive anger.

      I’d been afraid of my Dad, now I was a danger.

      In a frightening world, both outer and inner,

      I was told of God’s love, and that I was a sinner.

      But those old bible stories reached me more deeply;

      About flawed human beings, whom God would love anyway.

      That story about Samson was profoundly relieving

      In ways I couldn’t fathom, but nonetheless healing.

      My conscious attention was captured by his rhyme

      At his wedding celebration, trying to outwit with his mind.

      “Out of the eater came something to eat,

      Out of the strong came something sweet.”24

      As a child I was intrigued by the playful irony;

      Things ain’t what they seem, but inverted can be.

      Samson too had discovered that death’s a mystery:

      What seems like a dead end, may nurture new energy.

      IV

      The power of this story is that it’s seemingly simple;

      It isn’t clear till later that Samson himself’s a riddle.

      The riddle and its answer are part of a whole,

      And there’s layer upon layer as the story unfolds.

      The answer to the riddle is given as a poem:

      “What’s sweeter than honey, what’s stronger than a lion?”

      On the surface it’s about a lion upon whom the tables are turned:

      The eater is eaten even though frighteningly strong.

      From a being that strong, one wouldn’t expect sweetness.

      Only gradually does it dawn that wholeness holds opposites.

      Just so is Samson a bundle of contradictions,

      A man of pro-action who will later become a victim.

      His wit and his strength are his positive qualities,

      But he’s also a man with his own vulnerabilities.

      All these contradictions, seemingly opposed,

      Are part of the fabric, parts of the whole.

      The layers of meaning are artfully entwined:

      The various themes are there in the rhymes.

      The riddle only hints that he’s stronger than the lion.

      He’s still sorting out: “Is this strength really mine?”

      An answer still deeper that he’ll come to realize later:

      A strong man is weaker without the Source his Creator.

      His riddle is a metaphor with layers of congruency:

      It captures the core of his character and destiny.

      He’s stronger than the lion and uses his power at will,

      But he’ll end up being weakened and put to work in the mill.25

      He seduces the women with his games and his strength,

      And in feigning surrender he shows a side that is sweet.

      But he betrays who he is in relationships with women;

      Trusting only his own wits, he ends up betrayed by them.

      The riddle-game he plays seems to be mostly innocent,

      It’s brains over brawn, but winning’s still his intent.

      But his wife and her friends refuse to be bested.

      He naively assumed they’d accept that he was special.

      They outwit him at his game by resorting to deceit,

      Turning the tables on him so he’s darkly defeated.

      Just as the answer to the riddle is divined through deceit,

      So the key to Samson’s mettle includes betrayal as a theme.

      V

      What