Letter to My Sister
It is dangerous for a woman to defy the gods;
To taunt them with the tongue's thin tip,
Or strut in the weakness of mere humanity,
Or draw a line daring them to cross;
The gods own the searing lightning,
The drowning waters, tormenting fears
And anger of red sins.
Oh, but worse still if you mince timidly--
Dodge this way or that, or kneel or pray,
Be kind, or sweat agony drops
Or lay your quick body over your feeble young;
If you have beauty or none, if celibate
Or vowed--the gods are Juggernaut,
Passing over . . . over . . .
This you may do:
Lock your heart, then, quietly,
And lest they peer within,
Light no lamp when dark comes down
Raise no shade for sun;
Breathless must your breath come through
If you'd die and dare deny
The gods their god-like fun.
Anne Spencer ~ 1882 - 1975
8 comments:
Now THAT was a poem I could get into - very good.
Thank you, sister, for having the backbone against the tyrannical 'gods' that bring the individuality of a woman down. Here's to having 'god-like' fun!
This poem says a lot. Someday, maybe I'll have god-like fun. But not today.
Oh I loved that! Thank you so much for posting poetry regularly. I always look forward to seeing what you've chosen & whether it will be something I know or something new to enjoy. :)
That was a goodie.
I'm so glad you liked it, as the resident poet!
:P
I don't make a good snob. As the saying goes, I know what I like. I think we have very similar tastes though. You usually choose things I really like.
Excellent choice of poem. Didn't know it, but love it. Great blog.
Hi Dave! Thanks for looking in. I know nothing of poetry, so I started this Wed. poetry thing a few months ago. It has me looking for poetry during the week and I choose something I like. I will never be a poet, nor will I be able to converse with expertise on poetry. But I am becoming exposed to something I never looked at before. I read some of your blog and I will return when I have more time. You, I see, are a thinker!
Ganeida, the resident poet, you don't need to be an actual snob. You can be a poet of the proletariat. ; )
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