November 1968
Stripped
you're beginning to float free
up through the smoke of brushfires
and incinerators
the unleafed branches won't hold you
nor the radar aerials
You're what the autumn knew would happen
after the last collapse
of primary color
once the last absolutes were torn to pieces
you could begin
How you broke open, what sheathed you
until this moment
I know nothing about it
my ignorance of you amazes me
now that I watch you
starting to give yourself away
to the wind
-Adrienne Rich
This is my November poem. Thank you for writing, Adrienne Rich. For daring us to begin once we tear the last absolutes to pieces, once we shed our hefty layers. Your truth is magic to my ears.
1 comment:
i always love visiting your blog...i feel like i can be real. thank you so much!
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