Give me away.
Ladies and gentleman, welcome to April.
olivia_circe's enthusiasm is nothing if not contagious, and after last year's run of amazing poetry, I'm looking forward to this year's array of literary exploration. Each year I get to read amazing poetry, and I find myself digging around for poems that make me sit up a little, pay attention. Last year was the first year I tried to post even a few poems, and I'm so glad I did. Since I'm very behind in my poetry (ahem, I didn't have four years of a Mount Holyoke English major to assist, ahemhem), my exploration is more elementary, foundational. It's downright organic. And it's just so much fun.
In that vein, and since I have less than an hour until this first day of April is over, I bring you a poem on a somewhat somber note, but completely spontaneous. For the past couple weeks, I've been reading The Faith Club, a book about three mothers living in New York who start an interfaith discussion group after the events of September 11th. It's told from their perspectives, each balancing off the other, a counterplay. The majority of it is not co-written or melded together; it's three separate voices that discuss their faiths, their religions, their cultural experiences. It's really interesting, and a quick and fluid read.
In the last few pages of the book, one woman attends a funeral and recounts a poem she heard read, that immediately struck me. It's a little somber, but it's beautiful. My poems this month will be fluid, getting posted as they come to me, however they come to me, and this is where I'm starting-- with something that I read only yesterday, that I loved.
When I die
Give what's left of me away
To children
And old men that want to die.
And if you need to cry,
Cry for your brother
Walking the street beside you.
And when you need me,
Put your arms
Around anyone
And give them
What you need to give to me.
I want to leave you something,
Something better
Than words
Or sounds.
Look for me
In the people I've known
Or loved,
And if you cannot give me away,
At least let me live on in your eyes
And not on your mind.
You can love me most
By letting
Hands touch hands,
By letting
Bodies touch bodies
And by letting go
Of children
That need to be free.
Love doesn't die,
People do.
So, when all that's left of me
Is love,
Give me away.
- Merritt Malloy, Epitaph
olivia_circe's enthusiasm is nothing if not contagious, and after last year's run of amazing poetry, I'm looking forward to this year's array of literary exploration. Each year I get to read amazing poetry, and I find myself digging around for poems that make me sit up a little, pay attention. Last year was the first year I tried to post even a few poems, and I'm so glad I did. Since I'm very behind in my poetry (ahem, I didn't have four years of a Mount Holyoke English major to assist, ahemhem), my exploration is more elementary, foundational. It's downright organic. And it's just so much fun.
In that vein, and since I have less than an hour until this first day of April is over, I bring you a poem on a somewhat somber note, but completely spontaneous. For the past couple weeks, I've been reading The Faith Club, a book about three mothers living in New York who start an interfaith discussion group after the events of September 11th. It's told from their perspectives, each balancing off the other, a counterplay. The majority of it is not co-written or melded together; it's three separate voices that discuss their faiths, their religions, their cultural experiences. It's really interesting, and a quick and fluid read.
In the last few pages of the book, one woman attends a funeral and recounts a poem she heard read, that immediately struck me. It's a little somber, but it's beautiful. My poems this month will be fluid, getting posted as they come to me, however they come to me, and this is where I'm starting-- with something that I read only yesterday, that I loved.
When I die
Give what's left of me away
To children
And old men that want to die.
And if you need to cry,
Cry for your brother
Walking the street beside you.
And when you need me,
Put your arms
Around anyone
And give them
What you need to give to me.
I want to leave you something,
Something better
Than words
Or sounds.
Look for me
In the people I've known
Or loved,
And if you cannot give me away,
At least let me live on in your eyes
And not on your mind.
You can love me most
By letting
Hands touch hands,
By letting
Bodies touch bodies
And by letting go
Of children
That need to be free.
Love doesn't die,
People do.
So, when all that's left of me
Is love,
Give me away.
- Merritt Malloy, Epitaph