INVICTUS
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.
– William Ernest Henley
While he was in prison in South Africa, Nelson Mandela memorized this poem and regularly recited it. He used it as a way to persist through more than 27 years of imprisonment and to inspire other prisoners. After he was freed in 1990, he negotiated the end of apartheid in South Africa. He won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1993, along with F.W. de Kierk, who was President of South Africa at the time. In 1994, Nelson Mandela became the first Black president of South Africa.
The word ‘invictus’ comes from Latin and translates to “unconquered” or “undefeated.”
The author of the poem, William Ernest Henley, was diagnosed at the age of 12 with tuberculosis of the bone, which led to amputation of his left leg below the knee. In his early 20’s his other leg was also affected by tuberculosis. Seeking a way to keep his other leg, he sought treatment from Dr. Joseph Lister. Thanks to Dr. Lister’s pioneering methods and invention of antiseptic techniques, Henley’s other leg was saved. However, Henley was hospitalized for more than two years. During this time, struggling with pain, depression, and fear, he wrote the poem “Invictus.”
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THE JOURNEY
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice–
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do–
determined to save
the only life you could save.
– Mary Oliver
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I WANT SUPPORT
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IN THE MIDST OF WINTER
Photo background by César Couto on Unsplash
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THE INVISIBLE COMMUNITY
