The Irony of Devouring - an ekphrastic poem (and true story)

Standing in the Prado Museum in Madrid, Spain

in a spacious room dedicated to Francisco Goya’s art

I finally see the masterpiece in person:

“Saturn Devouring His Son”

depicting a crazed god-man gnawing
a half-torn, bloodied body, set against stormy darkness.

But rather than the typical shock-and-disgust reaction,

I am drawn to it.

Quietly moved, in fact, not in morbid delight

but wondrous curiosity and solemn awe.

I sense its extremes as it is amplified by real life—

five times as big, five times as wondrous.

Eerie art rarely intrigues me—violence, death

and utter blackness don’t draw me in—

but this peculiar piece and I have a bond that goes way back:

first in middle school Spanish class, then high school Art,

now Spanish Art Appreciation for college study abroad

where I’m clued in to the painter’s sad life story.

Perhaps I see the depth of desperation in the whites

of those crazed eyes, and imagine I feel Goya’s ironic agony

as I’m reminded how sometimes our depravity

devours our loved ones despite ourselves,

and how you don’t always need a happy ending

to tell a great story, but still we’d prefer one

as my classmates turn to other works,

for visual relief, only to find a Dog Half-submerged in sand,

while I stay still, to consider Saturn at greater length
to soak it in and experience its deepest stark effect.

They say, great art whispers to us

so I sit down, and take the time to listen.

 ©Ellen H.

P.S. I studied abroad in Spain in 2009, as a part of my Spanish major. See my blog post about this trip to Madrid, including liking Goya's works at the Prado, on a weekend excursion.