Daily Whitman

Mother_Earth_by_maumanga

By Blue Ontario’s Shore

18
  I will confront these shows of the day and night,
  I will know if I am to be less than they,
  I will see if I am not as majestic as they,
  I will see if I am not as subtle and real as they,
  I will see if I am to be less generous than they,
  I will see if I have no meaning, while the houses and ships have meaning,
  I will see if the fishes and birds are to be enough for themselves,
      and I am not to be enough for myself.

  I match my spirit against yours you orbs, growths, mountains, brutes,
  Copious as you are I absorb you all in myself, and become the master myself,
  America isolated yet embodying all, what is it finally except myself?
  These States, what are they except myself?

  I know now why the earth is gross, tantalizing, wicked, it is for my sake,
  I take you specially to be mine, you terrible, rude forms.
  (Mother, bend down, bend close to me your face,
  I know not what these plots and wars and deferments are for,
  I know not fruition's success, but I know that through war and crime
      your work goes on, and must yet go on.)

Posted on 24/03/2015, in literature, poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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