Thursday, December 27, 2007

more poetry

A few weeks ago I thought I'd start a Thursday tradition of poetry. But that didn't take hold given how crazy my life was and how much there was to relate. Wow, a few weeks ago? Or more like a month ago. I was thinking this morning about this fall - everything was so intense, it feels like the blink of an eye - where did all that time go? Did I spend it all crying? Fighting? What did I do all fall? What did I do all December? Or all 2007?

I have a few ideas for blog posts (my husband had a counseling session today where he relayed the story of his mom - and counselor says, wow, it's a wonder any of her progeny are capable of adult relationships), but realized it's Thursday, so why not share another poem? (is it illegal to post a poem? Copyright issues? If I put the copyright in does that make it ok?) There are few readers this week, but I think those who are reading would like this. This poem reminds me of you. A few weeks ago (wow, probably a few months ago), in the blogs I read, among comments and on some posts was discussion of having a black heart, and not being nice. I don't remember what started it. This poem makes me think bloggers are poets, too, and reminds me we don't always have to be nice.

The Poet has come back...

The poet has come back to being a poet
after decades of being virtuous instead.

Can't you be both?
No. Not in public.

You could, once,
back when God was still thundering vengeance

and liked the scent of blood,
and hadn't gotten around to slippery forgiveness.

Then you could scatter incense and praise,
and wear your snake necklace,

and hymn the crushed skulls of your enemies
to a pious chorus.

No deferential smiling, no baking of cookies,
no I'm a nice person really.

Welcome back, my dear.
Time to resume our vigil,

time to unlock the cellar door,
time to remind ourselves

that the god of poets has two hands:
the dextrous, the sinister.

- Margaret Atwood, The Door

(From "The Door." Houghton Mifflin. Copyright 2007 by O.W.Toad Ltd.)

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