Waking This Morning
By Muriel Rukeyser
Waking
this morning,
a violent woman in the violent day
Laughing.
Past the line of memory
along the long body of your life
in which move childhood, youth, your lifetime of touch,
eyes, lips, chest, belly, sex, legs, to the waves of the sheet.
I look past the little plant
on the city windowsill
to the tall towers bookshaped, crushed together in greed,
the river flashing flowing corroded,
the intricate harbor and the sea, the wars, the moon, the
planets, all who people space
in the sun visible invisible.
African violets in the light
breathing, in a breathing universe. I want strong peace,
and delight,
the wild good.
I want to make my touch poems:
to find my morning, to find you entire
alive moving among the anti-touch people.
a violent woman in the violent day
Laughing.
Past the line of memory
along the long body of your life
in which move childhood, youth, your lifetime of touch,
eyes, lips, chest, belly, sex, legs, to the waves of the sheet.
I look past the little plant
on the city windowsill
to the tall towers bookshaped, crushed together in greed,
the river flashing flowing corroded,
the intricate harbor and the sea, the wars, the moon, the
planets, all who people space
in the sun visible invisible.
African violets in the light
breathing, in a breathing universe. I want strong peace,
and delight,
the wild good.
I want to make my touch poems:
to find my morning, to find you entire
alive moving among the anti-touch people.
I say
across the waves of the air to you:
today once more
I will try to be non-violent
one more day
this morning, waking the world away
in the violent day.
-----------------------------------------------------
Thank you, dearest Erin, for mentioning this poem to me. I hunted it down because I don't think I've ever read it before and thoroughly enjoyed it. I owe you one. :-)
It's a much-needed rainy Saturday here in the humid swamps of luscious Louisiana. (The dragonflies are dancing between raindrops, swirling and dive-bombing like glittering, winged jewels---one of the top perks of living near a swamp is their prolific presence.) It's been pretty dry this summer, but not today. There are few things more luxurious than waking to dark skies & rain on a day you don't have to get out of bed, but can lie there listening to the rain pattering on the roof and the sound of distant thunder.
I have to get back to my reading. Later!
xo,
Marion
"How many a (wo)man has dated a new era in his/her life from the reading of a book." ~Henry David Thoreau, Walden
======================
"A house without books is like a room without windows." ~Heinrich Mann
=====================
today once more
I will try to be non-violent
one more day
this morning, waking the world away
in the violent day.
-----------------------------------------------------
Thank you, dearest Erin, for mentioning this poem to me. I hunted it down because I don't think I've ever read it before and thoroughly enjoyed it. I owe you one. :-)
It's a much-needed rainy Saturday here in the humid swamps of luscious Louisiana. (The dragonflies are dancing between raindrops, swirling and dive-bombing like glittering, winged jewels---one of the top perks of living near a swamp is their prolific presence.) It's been pretty dry this summer, but not today. There are few things more luxurious than waking to dark skies & rain on a day you don't have to get out of bed, but can lie there listening to the rain pattering on the roof and the sound of distant thunder.
I have to get back to my reading. Later!
xo,
Marion
"How many a (wo)man has dated a new era in his/her life from the reading of a book." ~Henry David Thoreau, Walden
======================
"A house without books is like a room without windows." ~Heinrich Mann
=====================
3 comments:
We finally got some rain this weekend, too. Over 2-1/2"!
The wild good. Oh, I like that phrase...concept...the notions it uses to sew dreams together in my head. I could soooo use a rainy day! Damn sun. Enough is enough. Bring on Fall!!!! *smooch*
this poem has been very important to me. i see the violence everywhere, even inside those who want to be peaceful (including myself). it's an inherent violence that we must be wary of. it stems from our consciousness, our ego. it's unavoidable and yet, it is our guide to living beyond it. what paradox.
james and i read Staying Alive often together, always surprised by its depth and the secret poems it holds in reserve until we are ready.
xo
erin
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