FUNERAL BLUES - W.H. AUDEN
In my twenties, I loved watching foreign movies. One of my favorites was Four Weddings and a Funeral, mostly because I was obsessed with anything Hugh Grant at the time. The movie introduced me to W.H. Auden’s 'Funeral Blues' -
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
Grief has a way of making the world feel surreal; the silence in your own life becomes so deafening that the noise of the outside world feels like an insult. It is quiet cruelty that while one’s world feels like it’s going down in flames, the rest of the world just keeps on spinning
A Bit of Trivia
The poem’s appearance in Four Weddings and a Funeral created a massive Auden Renaissance. The poem may have been well-known in literary circles but John Hannah’s delivery was how I stumbled upon it.
When you’re processing grief through literature like "Funeral Blues," you’re doing what people have done for centuries: using someone else’s words to build a bridge to your own feelings.