Poetry

[qos]

It's kind of embarrassing to admit, but I usually don't care much for poetry. A poem almost always has to connect with me in a fairly explicit personal way for me to respond with any kind of enthusiasm.

But I've been gifted with poetry twice in the past few days and was both touched and honored by the giving. There's something about being the recipient of a poem, whether it was written for me or not, that makes me feel special.

wordweaverlynn left this poem by Edna St. Vincet Millay in response to my "Lonely" post. I'm reposting because it's beautiful and I want to pass it on, and because I want to be able to see it easily during the day.


If to be left were to be left alone,
And lock the door and find one's self again—
Drag forth and dust Penates of one's own
That in a corner all too long have lain;
Read Brahms, read Chaucer, set the chessmen out
In classic problem, stretch the shrunken mind
Back to its stature on the rack of thought—
Loss might be said to leave its boon behind.
But fruitless conference and the interchange
With callow wits of bearded cons and pros
Enlist the neutral daylight, and derange
A will too sick to battle for repose.
Neither with you nor with myself, I spend
Loud days that have no meaning and no end.

--Edna St. Vincent Millay


There were other poems too, over the weekend, that were special blessings which I am not free to share, but they moved me to tears -- and even inspired me to create some poetry of my own response. (No, I'm not going to post it.)

There is such power in words.


But I guess that's why we're all here, isn't it?