Inauguration
It was unremarkable, except for the fact that we have inaugurated the first black President and the sheer size of the crowd... the pictures on TV were very impressive. His speech was boring - I agree with people who say that he seemed more passionate in Denver. Overall I thought it was a sober speech, which I think was appropriate, but it could have used a bit more of that quasi-ecumenical uplift qualify that has seemed to sucker captivate so many people! I kid, I kid.
This, however, was an atrocity -
Praise song for the day.
Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others' eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.
Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.
A woman and her son wait for the bus.
A farmer considers the changing sky; A teacher says, "Take out your pencils. Begin."
We encounter each other in words, words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; words to consider, reconsider.
We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, "I need to see what's on the other side; I know there's something better down the road."
We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see.
Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of.
WEW WEW - GRAMMAR POLICE - PULL OVER! Anyway -
Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables.
Some live by "Love thy neighbor as thy self."
Others by first do no harm, or take no more than you need.
What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance.
In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun.
On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp -- praise song for walking forward in that light.
WOT?
This is why you should not ever recite poetry at an inauguration unless you are an obvious genius, as Robert Frost and Maya Angelou are/were. (Don't have much of an opinion on Miller Williams). When Robert Frost was selected as the first inaugural poet, the poor guy was 86 years old and didn't have it in him to read the poem he wrote for the occasion, so he recited one he knew by heart, which starts like this:
The land was ours before we were the land's.
She was our land more than a hundred years
Before we were her people.
Ahhh..... that is like a warm comforting blanket compared to the nails on chalkboard of this "praise song," with its forced pretension and utter meaninglessness.
In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air, any poet can be selected (apparently), any sentence passed off as meaningful.
This, however, was an atrocity -
Praise song for the day.
Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others' eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.
Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.
A woman and her son wait for the bus.
A farmer considers the changing sky; A teacher says, "Take out your pencils. Begin."
We encounter each other in words, words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; words to consider, reconsider.
We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, "I need to see what's on the other side; I know there's something better down the road."
We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see.
Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of.
WEW WEW - GRAMMAR POLICE - PULL OVER! Anyway -
Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables.
Some live by "Love thy neighbor as thy self."
Others by first do no harm, or take no more than you need.
What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance.
In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun.
On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp -- praise song for walking forward in that light.
WOT?
This is why you should not ever recite poetry at an inauguration unless you are an obvious genius, as Robert Frost and Maya Angelou are/were. (Don't have much of an opinion on Miller Williams). When Robert Frost was selected as the first inaugural poet, the poor guy was 86 years old and didn't have it in him to read the poem he wrote for the occasion, so he recited one he knew by heart, which starts like this:
The land was ours before we were the land's.
She was our land more than a hundred years
Before we were her people.
Ahhh..... that is like a warm comforting blanket compared to the nails on chalkboard of this "praise song," with its forced pretension and utter meaninglessness.
In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air, any poet can be selected (apparently), any sentence passed off as meaningful.
