Poem (I lived in the first century of world wars)
Muriel Rukeyser
I lived in the first century of world wars.
Most mornings I would be more or less insane,
The newspapers would arrive with their careless stories,
The news would pour out of various devices
Interrupted by attempts to sell products to the unseen.
I would call my friends on other devices;
They would be more or less mad for similar reasons.
Slowly I would get to pen and paper,
Make my poems for others unseen and unborn.
In the day I would be reminded of those men and women,
Brave, setting up signals across vast distances,
Considering a nameless way of living, of almost unimagined values.
As the lights darkened, as the lights of night brightened,
We would try to imagine them, try to find each other,
To construct peace, to make love, to reconcile
Waking with sleeping, ourselves with each other,
Ourselves with ourselves. We would try by any means
To reach the limits of ourselves, to reach beyond ourselves,
To let go the means, to wake.
I lived in the first century of these wars.
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Today in:
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Homeric Hymn, A.E. Stallings2022:
The Mower, Philip Larkin2021:
When people say, “we have made it through worse before”, Clint Smith2020:
Untitled, James Baldwin2019:
To Yahweh, Tina Kelley2018:
from how many of us have them?, Danez Smith2017:
Sad Dictionary, Richard Siken2016:
Lucia, Ravi Shankar2015:
Overjoyed, Ada Limón2014:
Helen of Troy Does Countertop Dancing, Margaret Atwood2013:
Anniversary, Cecilia Woloch2012:
Poem for Jack Spicer, Matthew Zapruder2011:
Now comes the long blue cold, Mary Oliver
2010:
Jackie Robinson, Lucille Clifton
2009:
In the Nursing Home, Jane Kenyon
2008:
To the Couple Lingering on the Doorstep, Deborah Landau
2007:
White Apples, Donald Hall
2006:
Late Confession, Gary Soto
2005:
Steps, Frank O’Hara