August 21, 2004
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You Begin
You begin this way:
this is your hand,
this is your eye,
that is a fish, blue and flat
on the paper, almost
the shape of an eye.
This is your mouth, this is an O
or a moon, whichever
you like. This is yellow.Outside the window
is the rain, green
because it is summer, and beyond that
the trees and then the world,
which is round and has only
the colors of these nine crayons.This is the world, which is fuller
and more difficult to learn than I have said.
You are right to smudge it that way
with the red and then
the orange: the world burns.Once you have learned these words
you will learn that there are more
words than you can ever learn.
The word hand floats above your hand
like a small cloud over a lake.
The word hand anchors
your hand to this table,
your hand is a warm stone
I hold between two words.This is your hand, these are my hands, this is the world,
which is round but not flat and has more colors
than we can see.It begins, it has an end,
this is what you will
come back to, this is your hand.I thought I would start posting a poem that inspires me on Saturdays and why. This one is by Margaret Atwood (1978). For me, it speaks to the act of writing, which on some days can seem complex and overwhelming, even to the born writer, but on others is as simple as “this is your hand” – begin. It makes the urge seem warm and pure and right.
Deep Thought: Just because swans mate for life, I don’t think it’s that big of a deal. First of all, if you’re a swan, you’re probably not going to find a swan that looks that much better than the one you’ve got so why not mate for life.
Today I am grateful for: Anthologies
End of Day – 9:12 pm
+ = It rained a wonderful fresh dust-dispelling rain this evening.
- = What is it with these Swift Boat people – as if I didn’t know.
Comments (9)
it is very friendly…
I’lltake yellow and
return
later..
this hits home
I really love Margaret Atwood, but I have never heard this poem before. It rings so true; thanks for sharing.
I might have known it was Atwood! I always did like her (earlier) poetry best, though she is one helluva novelist too. We lived in the same neighbourhood in Toronto for years – she was 2 streets back, though I didn’t ever talk to her. This is quite a lovely poem about a child learning the language of the world, their world’s language of words and colours of the world…
What a kick! It didn’t cross my mind that this was about child learning. That’s what’s so formidable about creativity – that the audience can find so many different meanings in it.
What a wonderful poem. That’s how I saw it, too: a child learning, which of course is one of my favorite subjects in the world.
Since I love to write I found it excellent.
I love this idea – Saturdays and inspiration – excellent …………..