Saturday, November 12, 2016
Since the election, I wake up every morning in dread.
I lived in the first century of world wars.
Most mornings I would be more or less
The newspapers would arrive with their
The news would pour out of various
Interrupted by attempts to sell products
to the unseen.
I would call my friends on other devices;
They would be more or less mad for
Slowly I would get to pen and paper,
Make my poems for others unseen and
In the day I would be reminded of those
men and women,
Brave, setting up signals across vast
Considering a nameless way of living, of
almost unimagined values.
As the lights darkened, as the lights of
We would try to imagine them, try to find
To construct peace, to make love, to
Waking with sleeping, ourselves with each
Ourselves with ourselves. We would try by
To reach the limits of ourselves, to reach
To let go the means, to wake.
I lived in the first century of these wars.
from The Speed of Darkness, 1968
posted on Poetry Foundation