Anima and Animus

This section contains the following poems:

Dedicated to C.A. Meier, my analyst 1959-60,
      close colleague of Carl Jung,
founder of the Jung Analytic Institute of Zurich.

A Personal Remembrance

I look back through the curtain
    of the past
    toward languishing events
    waiting to be plucked
    ahead of amnesia and prior ro
        demise,
    in order to reassert their relevance
    before relevance becomes
    an anachronism of nonexistence.

And I locate distant dreams
    of the anima* struggling
    for survival within my busy soul
    midst an array of transient
        rationalism,
    and an objectivity composed of
    simplistic assertion and mundane
        dominance.

Yet she survived in the innocent closets
        of uncalculating marriage;
    on private preserves of isolated
    living on mountains and islands
        at the edge;
    in writing poetry with less rhyme
        and reason than
    the mating of anima and animus
    to produce imps of warmhearted
        irony;
    and in teaching about translating
    the language of dreams revealing
    the Unicorn’s vision of Truth.

My anima grew
    to lead me toward
    the most enduring creativity
        of my life,
    and it is with relief and pride
    that I rediscover her name
    midst the generous bestowals
        of her inspiration.

She grew from that illuminating origin,
    and I recall the man who labeled,
    legitimized, and enrichened the
    modest paths I had previously
    only stumbled upon
        without mission or purpose
    prior to his expert, circumspect
        postnatal delivery.


                          Saul Spiro, 01/2003

anima: the feminine aspect of every psyche, mostly overshadowed in men by animus, the masculine aspect.



Anima and Animus

She flew,
    and I provided her with short
    grass landing strips
    on islands within myself,
    where we celebrated her visits
    with facile moments of glory.

He climbed,
    on a short ladder leading
    through entrances of insight,
    and exits of despair,
    located between rooms filled
    with the furniture of knowledge,
    upon which we seated ourselves
    comfortably together,
    enjoying each other’s company.

We learned to live with
    one another in reprises
    of surprise and creativity -- -- -
    a togetherness we could not bear
              to be without. .


                          Saul Spiro, 02/2004

                Anima and Animus, 1988