“Elegy” by Natasha Trethewey

According to this article in The Atlantic, Natasha Trethewey’s “Elegy” for her father is not actually about death. As the author states, “…what’s being elegized is…a kind of loss between father and daughter, a kind of estrangement.” Although the poem isn’t speaking to the loss of a life, its beauty lies in the fact that it can be read either way. I certainly saw how this piece resembles a true elegy.

First of all, the poet shapes the poem around a memory, making the reader think that perhaps Trethewey is recalling happier times: “Late August, I imagine it/as it was that morning…everything damp/and shining” (2-3, 5-6). The inclusion of the detail that everything was “shining” adds to this idea of joy; despite the wet weather, everything was still beautiful. Trethewey goes on to describe their fishing trip at the river, and everything seems to have a hidden meaning behind it. The next few lines exemplify this:

…we stalked

into the current and found our places—

you upstream a few yards, and out

far deeper… (7-10)

The concept of finding their separate places seems to be a metaphor for their different stages in life. Trethewey’s father is “out far deeper,” meaning he is further along in life, and he is “upstream,” which could signify a grappling with his impending death. The lines that follow further this line of thought: “You must remember how/the river seeped in over your boots,/and you grew heavy with defeat” (10-12). The “river” of life is overwhelming her father, and he feels that he must resign himself to his life coming to an end. This knowledge has an effect on Trethewey too, who can feel the distance between them:

All day I kept turning to watch you, how

first you mimed our guide’s casting,

then cast your invisible line, slicing the sky

between us… (13-16)

When only mimicking the guide, everything is fine between Trethewey and her father. But once he actually casts his line, something changes, and there is a gap between the two individuals. Perhaps because he is now really taking action, really moving forward, the poet realizes that her father is approaching his death. This creates a space between them that is difficult to cross, because it is hard for both of them to accept this truth.

Next, Trethewey recalls catching two fish, and relates this to her feelings about her father’s death:

Because I had to release them, I confess,

I thought about the past—working

the hooks loose, the fish writhing

in my hands, each one slipping away

before I could let go. (22-26)

Natasha Trethewey

Because the fish are to be returned to their lives in the water, Trethewey ponders the way things used to be, to the normalcy that used to exist in her life. But that normal, carefree life has begun to “slip away,” before she was ready, before she “could let go.” She is losing her father, and she doesn’t feel prepared. No matter what, her father’s life will always be entwined with hers. She implies as much when she writes, “You kept casting/your line, and when it did not come back/empty, it was tangled with mine” (31-33). Her father is struggling as he fishes, as he goes on living. And this ends up having an effect on Trethewey’s life too, as she is forced to come to terms with the fact that her father will not always be around. It begins to haunt her, and she tries not to think about it:

Some nights,

dreaming, I step again into the small boat

that carried us out and watch the bank receding—

my back to where I know we are headed. (33-36)

In her dreams, she remembers being out on the water, but it is not a happy memory. The bank “reced[es]”; they are getting further away from the safety of the past, and headed toward Trethewey’s father’s death. This is why she keeps her back turned; she knows what is coming and she doesn’t like it. But regardless of her feelings, the boat always moves forward, for all of us.

Natasha Trethewey Photo Credit: Emory University

Related Reading:

• “New Laureate Looks Deep Into Memory” (The New York Times)
• Biography of Natasha Trethewey