Theories of Time and Space

Natasha Trethewey’s “Theories of Time and Space” considers, through a thorough investigation of place and memory, the nature of time and its effect on all things. The poem reflects key themes that are often present in Trethewey’s work, such as an attention to loss, memory, and history—personal and national in scope. From the outset, “Theories of Time and Space” postulates that “there’s no going home” (Line 2), while also, almost contradictorily, claiming that “who you were—will be waiting when you return” (Line 20). Trethewey’s poem makes a thematic statement in its contradictions: According to the “theories of time and space” that the speaker is beholden to, “home” (Line 2) is a place that cannot be reached because it can only exist, unchanged and whole, outside of time and space, safely ensconced in memory. Moreover, people—though also incapable of resisting the changes of time—can only return to and find their former selves by constantly carrying the “terrain of the past” and bringing “what you must carry—tome of memory” with them (Lines 14-16). According to Trethewey, memory is the only thing strong enough to establish a person or place that is not subject to the “theories of time and space.”

The poem begins by explaining clear parameters, setting up the laws that govern the theory: “there’s no going home. / Everywhere you go will be somewhere / you’ve never been” (Lines 2-4). Here, Trethewey implies that there is no way to return “home” because “home” is more of an idea, propped up in the human mind by memory and memory objects, like photographs. While the “home” the speaker describes may always exist in memory, it cannot be reached by familiar roads.

Moreover, the attempt to return “home” literally cannot be achieved. “There’s no going home” (Line 2) is the only line end-stopped with a period in the entire poem, which suggests that the road “home” is closed or cannot be reached. In fact, the journey itself is pointless: “one mile markers ticking off / another minute of your life. Follow this / to its natural conclusion—dead end” (Lines 6-8). At this point in the poem, Trethewey makes it clear that all attempts to return literally to the past are useless; the natural and only conclusion to the human search for and desire to reanimate parts of the past (places, feelings, and people) is a dead end.

“Theories of Time and Space” supposes that time is ever moving and unstoppable. It wields an extreme power that cannot be halted by human feeling or desire. Trethewey uses enjambment and run-on couplets to illustrate the movement of time. The poem, despite being arranged in couplets, is beholden to no true form. Each line folds into the next, all connected and continuous, always changing. The final line of the poem is also unpunctuated, which speaks to the continued cycle of time—always changing and uncontrollable. Attempts to attain some lost place or person are pointless, but they are also necessary.

Perhaps the ultimate metaphor of Trethewey’s poem is the road itself. The speaker gives the reader explicit directions: “Try this: / head south on Mississippi 49, one— / by—one mile markers” (Lines 4-6), and upon arrival in Gulfport, Mississippi—the seeming destination of the trip—the speaker describes a scene that is already changing even as it is introduced: “the pier at Gulfport where / riggings of shrimp boats are loose stitches / in a sky threatening rain” (Lines 9-11). The beach becomes what it was before it was a beach even as the speaker describes the scene to the reader: “man-made beach, 26 miles of sand / dumped on a mangrove swamp” (Lines 12-13).

The speaker leads the reader on a journey down a road that is a dead end. The destination—home—can never be reached because home is a place that exists outside of time and space. The only way to journey “home” is to follow memory; the speaker tells the reader “Bring only / what you must carry—tome of memory” (Lines 14-15). The weight of memory is heavy and inescapable for all people. The speaker and the reader are both driven to follow a familiar road to a place that has become unfamiliar—all in an attempt to reach what is already lost. So, memory is both the catalyst for the journey and also the destination. The poem ends on a dock, and the speaker urges the reader to board a boat to an island, but the promise of time—or the curse of time, depending on perspective, is that it never stops moving, and no one person, place, or thing can ever truly remain the same. The speaker tells the reader to get their picture taken; “the photograph—who you were— / will be waiting when you return” (Lines 19-20). Trethewey’s use of the past-tense verb “were” reasserts the immutability of time, but the final line directly contradicts the idea of past and present being separate at all; the past is always “waiting” in memory, ready to be rediscovered—even if it is beyond recapture.