As words fail me, yours are clearer than ever and express what I cant find words for. I especially resonate with the stanza that begins "There is not enough love to smother every wound." So much suffering everywhere. This poem is my new favourite.
Thank you, Sherry. Words are indeed becoming hard to find. I read your poem on the Wolf today...can't imagine what the animals make of all that is happening...
We're certainly in a different age of poetry, so far down the road from romanticism and modernism that they seem like poor abodes for weltering heat and collapsing edifices. I hope we can call it post-digital but too many ghosts are still in that machine. Your last line keeps the question vital and insisting.
Thank you, Brendan...I wonder too what the poetry relevant to our times is...what it must contain, sound like...when everything is proximate and immediate and graphic, what purpose poetry serves? Yet, if not balm or clarion call...it must be at least witness...perhaps....
True... I think in the Earthweal days, the poems we wrote were like oracles...then came Desperate poets where I think all kinds of dystopia came up!! Now the world seems completely different again!
Thanks for pairing those two efforts, which did seem in tandem: oracles to blues. Now it's shatter's magnitude, orchestral legatoes leaping from one vanished floe to the next. Loving and grieving all the way.
Good question, Petru! Hopefully, whatever it is, it heals and renews and makes everything beautiful again! Thanks so much- lovely to see you on Substack!!!
I always liked that idea that you can never really locate a particle. I know nothing about physics, but it makes perfect sense to me. Now is always gone before you can even say its name.
And the tension between what is in the micro and what is in the macro--I'm not sure that can ever be resolved. We are connected to all of it and yet sometimes we are so so alone.
Thank you, K...the science is so fascinating. To think of what we are made of and how that is even possible - is completely surreal! But it tells us how valuable time is and how ephemeral everything is, how miniscule we are in the scheme of things!!!
This poem is breathtaking. Thank you for writing, for sharing, for being a lightening bolt. 💜
Thanks so much, Delaina and appreciate the restack too! 🙏
“There is enough
universe out there for even the
moon to be just a quark. For even
hopeless desperation to pass.”
Heartfelt, Rajani.
Funny how a book I'm reading on physics brought about that poem...like a kaleidoscope, every time you turn, everything shifts!! Thank you, Mahdi.
As words fail me, yours are clearer than ever and express what I cant find words for. I especially resonate with the stanza that begins "There is not enough love to smother every wound." So much suffering everywhere. This poem is my new favourite.
Thank you, Sherry. Words are indeed becoming hard to find. I read your poem on the Wolf today...can't imagine what the animals make of all that is happening...
We're certainly in a different age of poetry, so far down the road from romanticism and modernism that they seem like poor abodes for weltering heat and collapsing edifices. I hope we can call it post-digital but too many ghosts are still in that machine. Your last line keeps the question vital and insisting.
Thank you, Brendan...I wonder too what the poetry relevant to our times is...what it must contain, sound like...when everything is proximate and immediate and graphic, what purpose poetry serves? Yet, if not balm or clarion call...it must be at least witness...perhaps....
Witness absolutely, though its hard to say right now to which magnitude ... that's why there isn't a name yet for this poetry.
True... I think in the Earthweal days, the poems we wrote were like oracles...then came Desperate poets where I think all kinds of dystopia came up!! Now the world seems completely different again!
Thanks for pairing those two efforts, which did seem in tandem: oracles to blues. Now it's shatter's magnitude, orchestral legatoes leaping from one vanished floe to the next. Loving and grieving all the way.
"There's not enough love to smother all wounds ..." stopped me in my tracks. What do we know of love?
Good question, Petru! Hopefully, whatever it is, it heals and renews and makes everything beautiful again! Thanks so much- lovely to see you on Substack!!!
I love that cursor. As for your question? I have no idea.
That cursor keeps blinking - like a ticking clock!! :) Thank you, Martha.
I always liked that idea that you can never really locate a particle. I know nothing about physics, but it makes perfect sense to me. Now is always gone before you can even say its name.
And the tension between what is in the micro and what is in the macro--I'm not sure that can ever be resolved. We are connected to all of it and yet sometimes we are so so alone.
Thank you, K...the science is so fascinating. To think of what we are made of and how that is even possible - is completely surreal! But it tells us how valuable time is and how ephemeral everything is, how miniscule we are in the scheme of things!!!
So much about so little...quite, quietly captivating.
💫
Thanks so much, Eileen. Glad you liked the poem!
Love this, Rajani!
“There is not enough love to smother
every wound. A single day demands
five stages of grief and four stages of
anger.” There is so much here to sit with.
Thanks so much, Andy. Glad you liked those lines. 🙏🙏
What a beautiful poem - and so perfect for this moment!
Thank you so much, Lisa. Appreciate your feeling that it resonates with the times.