Blogs by Nicky Goodman
The Art of Blessing the Day
11/28/2008 6:48:44 AM
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a favourite poem, by Marge Piercy - thank you, and Marge too. Enjoy :)
The Art of Blessing the Day Ėby Marge Piercy
This is the blessing for rain after draught:
Come down, wash the air so it shimmers,
A perfumed shawl of lavender chiffon.
Let the parched leaves suckle and swell.
Enter my skin, wash me for the little
Chrysalis of sleep rocked in your plashing.
In the morning the world is peeled to shining.
This is the blessing for the sun after long rain:
Now everything shakes itself free and rises.
The trees are bright as pushcart ices.
Every last lily opens it satin thighs.
The bees dance and roll in pollen
And the cardinal at the top of the pine
Sings at full throttle, fountaining.
This is the blessing for a ripe peach:
This is luck made round. Frost can nip
The blossom, kill the bee. It can drop,
A hard green useless nut. Brown fungus,
The burrowing worm that coils in rot can
Blemish it and wind crush it on the ground.
Yet this peach fills my mouth with juicy sun.
This is the blessing for the first garden tomato:
Those green boxes of tasteless acid the store
Sells in January, those red things with the savour
of wet chalk, they mock your fragrant name.
How fat and sweet you are weighing down my palm,
Warm as flank of a cow in the sun.
You are the savor of summer in a thin red skin.
This is the blessing for a political victory:
Although I shall not forget that things
Work in increments and epicycles and sometime
Leaps that half the time fall back down,
Letís not relinquish dancing while music
Fits into our hips and bounces off our heels.
We must never forget, pleasure is real as pain.
The blessing for the return of a favourite cat,
The blessing for love returned, for friendsí
Return, for money received unexpected,
The blessing for the rising of the bread,
The sun, the oppressed. I am not sentimental
About old men mumbling Hebrew by rote
With no more feeling than one says gesundheit.
But the discipline of blessing is to taste
Each moment, the bitter, the sour, the sweet
And the salty, and be glad for what does not
Hurt. The art is in compressing attention
To each little and big blossom of the tree
Of life, to let tongue sing each fruit,
Its savour, its aroma and itís use.
Attention is love, what we must give
Children, mothers, fathers, pets,
Our friends, the news, the woes of others.
What we want to change we curse and then
Pick up a tool. Bless whatever you can
With eyes and hands and tongue. If you
Canít bless it, get ready to make it new.
More Blogs by Nicky Goodman
The Art of Blessing the Day - Friday, November 28, 2008
Anthem of Tenerife - Friday, November 21, 2008
The Hairy Monk - Thursday, November 20, 2008
yaaaay! Go Alex, Go Alex!!!!! Is it not over yet?? She's aces! - Wednesday, October 29, 2008
A song... - Thursday, October 23, 2008
Dear Friends, - Thursday, October 09, 2008
New York - - Monday, August 18, 2008
The kids i know and the upset chair - Friday, March 28, 2008
The Key - (Adult material) - Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Black Pyramids in Tenerife - Thor Hererdahl (1914 -2002) - Monday, October 08, 2007
Hissy fit ô (#8, batch~08) - Thursday, August 09, 2007
Hissy fits ô - Wednesday, August 01, 2007