TO WRITE IT
You must always be alone.
But don't beg a soupscrap of charity
or birdcrumb of tolerance.
Shift for yourself.
As furniture heaves off your life
you'll love your deliverance.
Until loneliness slips in, scrawny
and hungry, Miss Loneliness, over the
barrenness, bribing with company.
Restlessness, one of her attendants.
And the drunk twins, of course,
Memory and Remorse.
Refuse them. Stay
faithful to Silence, just
Silence, sliding between that breath
and now this breath, severing the tick
from the tock on the alarm clock,
measuring the absence of all else.
And the presence, the privilege.
Anne Stevenson
8 comments:
Lovely poem, Ann Stevenson captures it so well. The idea of loneliness as scrawny and hungry stays with me.
Memory and remorse.
Ah, you've offered a respite here.
Thank you.
"Stay faithful to Silence.." Oh, I try, I try. ;)
Elisabeth - It seemed just the right poem, as I know so many of you who visit here are writers and know exactly the state, the life, of which she speaks. xo
Kass - A respite is no small thing and when it is offered, we are fortunate. So glad this provided one. xo
Jayne - Perhaps there should have been, in parentheses, to the best of our ability. Life in the world and that kind of silence are not terribly compatible. Still, we try for both. xo
As furniture heaves off your life
you'll love your deliverance.
I'm going with that. Lovely, and thanks for sharing it, Marylinn.
Penelope - Happy to pass it along. It helped jolt me awake, gently. xo
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