poetry for poetry month
(i signed up for a poem a day from poets.org, and this is today's poem.)
Untitled [This is what was bequeathed us]
This is what was bequeathed us:
This earth the beloved left
And, leaving,
Left to us.
No other world
But this one:
Willows and the river
And the factory
With its black smokestacks.
No other shore, only this bank
On which the living gather.
No meaning but what we find here.
No purpose but what we make.
That, and the beloved's clear instructions:
Turn me into song; sing me awake.
--excerpt from How Beautiful the Beloved, by Gregory Orr
Untitled [This is what was bequeathed us]
This is what was bequeathed us:
This earth the beloved left
And, leaving,
Left to us.
No other world
But this one:
Willows and the river
And the factory
With its black smokestacks.
No other shore, only this bank
On which the living gather.
No meaning but what we find here.
No purpose but what we make.
That, and the beloved's clear instructions:
Turn me into song; sing me awake.
--excerpt from How Beautiful the Beloved, by Gregory Orr