Maybe you have long conversations with yourself....
I read the papers.
I unfold them and examine them in the sunlight.
The way the red mortars, in photographs,
arc down into neighborhoods
like stars, the way death
combs everything into a grey rubble before
the camera moves on. What
dark part of my soul
shivers: you don't want to know more
about this. And then: you don't know anything
unless you do...
Read More of this poem by Mary Oliver.
Or say a lot but no one was listening?
|Gertrude Stein by Pablo Picasso|
Copyright of Meme: Stefan Stenudd
Today, I wish for us to celebrate the poem as a one-sided conversation, written for a silent and even disinterested audience, because poetry is an aspect of individual creativity that goes beyond literary appreciation or criticism. We write because we think and the act of setting the words down shows that these thoughts matter, maybe to ourselves alone, maybe to someone else who happens to read them.