The Seeds of Tears

In "Sestina" by Elizabeth Bishop, the terms such as rain, tears, stove and almanac are repeteadly applied. Since I could go on and on about the terms, I will focus on the rain and the tears. The grandmother's tears are equinoctial--pertaining to a state of equal day and night (Oxford English Dictionary). The tears she tries to hide are balanced, probably meaning to have both happy and sad purposes for them. Although they are balanced in a sense, it is the inbetween liminal state. She is stuck in liminality. Since she hides the tears, the sky is crying, as the "September rain falls on the house" (Bishop 1). Even "the teakettle's small hard tears dance like mad on the hot black stove, the way the rain must dance on the house" (Bishop 14-6). The tears dancing like mad gives me a vision of someone dancing a "Waltz of Sorrow" if there was such thing, or even kind of acting or overaction of madness. It reminds me of Hamlet when he appears in front of Ophelia like a ghost, and of Ophelia when she is driven mad after finding out about her father's death in Hamlet. There is a theatric-like nuance to this line. I could envision the grandmother's sorrow dancing furiously inside her. The balance may be applied to the dance in a very interesting way. The dance, is sort of controlled because of the balance. Since there is the day and the night part to her tears, she can't go on about one, and has to balance them out, which turns out to balance the dance, giving it a kind of a control. Therefore, the dance is not simply of madness but is of a controlled madness--something far more dangerous than just a madness since now the person has time to think, to use the intelligence to create something horrible out of it. Another important aspect of this part is that the "rain must dance on the house" (Bishop 16). It does say that the tears and the rain "were both foretold by the almanac" (Bishop 9). But does the rain "must dance" or "must dance on the house"? Does it have to dance on the house, or can it be anywhere else? The house is a very important property of people. It gives them shelter and security, and is a device to express themselves. Since it is raining on the house, the house may be in a danger in a way. Even if they are small drops of water, if it keeps on pecking the same place over and over, they make a hole. If so, the shelter now has a small fault--a small hole--in the roof which makes it imperfect and less secure. But also, since it is raining outside, the people in the house probably would not go out unless it is necessary. The rain keeps the people in the house, giving more security to them: making them more safe but less active. Maybe the grandmother is afraid to go out and experience the world where, although good things occur, bad things may occur as well. The rain must dance--why? Dancing is an art form. She may be trying to express her tears beautifully. However, dancing is also a kind of ritual as well. It may be implying that she has to let her tears come out in order for her to move on--to escape the liminal status she is in. Then her teacup is "full of dark brown tears" (Bishop 22). Since the teacup has tea in it, it should be hot. Either she doesn't drink it or it doesn't help, "she shivers and says she thinks the house feels chilly, and puts more wood in the stove" (Bishop 23-4). That happens right after the teacup is introduced. Have the tea cooled down by the time it was referred to in the poem? Is it because of the "tears" that fills the cup and not "tea"? The house also fails to give her shelter as she shivers. Is this because she doesn't let go of her tears and keep them in? As I have mentioned before, she probably has to let her feelings rule her for a moment and let things go out in order to escape the instability. Then the buttons of the man the child draws are tears as well. Usually children's pictures are heart-warming and makes people smile. Now the grandmother can't help but see the buttons as her tears. But this doesn't make her feel better because the picture is not really crying for her: they are buttons drawn by the child. Buttons hold the clothes together and usually helps straighten oneself. The grandmother is straigtening herself up by containing her tears. Although it is orderly, people sometimes need to let him/herself out. She won't be able to escape her status forever if she keeps hiding her tears. Now the "little moons fall down like tears" (Bishop 29). She is also "in the failing light" (Bishop 2). The light--clarity, hope, warmth--is failing and falling, and if she doesn't stop that, she would slip into darkness, with much difficulties to find the way out. At the end, the almanac says, "Time to plant tears" (Bishop 37). In order to plant them, she has to let them out of her. What grows from the seed of tears? Is it a refreshing happiness or an outraging sorrow? Is it the path out of liminality?