I used to read a lot of poetry—perhaps all angsty teenagers do. Recently I found an old journal full of poems and thoughts. There is one poem in particular that I often think of when I am lacking inspiration, feeling blue, or falling blind to the abundance of beauty all around. I fell in love with the writing of Amiri Baraka (formerly LeRoi Jones) in high school, and it stuck with me over the years. This poem in particular I found to be so painstakingly beautiful—so real and raw. So hopeful.
In an effort to introduce poetry back into my life, I thought I would start a regular poetry post. My reserve of favorite poems will only last so long, so this will challenge me to find new favorites. One can never have too much poetry in life.
"Preface to a Twenty Volume Suicide Note"
Lately, I've become accustomed to the way
The ground opens up and envelopes me
Each time I go out to walk the dog.
Or the broad edged silly music the wind
Makes when I run for a bus...
Things have come to that.
And now, each night I count the stars.
And each night I get the same number.
And when they will not come to be counted,
I count the holes they leave.
Nobody sings anymore.
And then last night I tiptoed up
To my daughter's room and heard her
Talking to someone, and when I opened
The door, there was no one there...
Only she on her knees, peeking into
Her own clasped hands