Friday, November 11, 2011

I want my free will

October is gone, and November is here. Has been here for a week and a half. I turned 28, yay for me. Creeping closer to 30 every day, I guess, although most people look at me and think I'm about 19.

I've had some things happen in the past week, things that are out of my control, so, um, prayers (if you pray) or good thoughts (if you don't pray, and even if you do) would be appreciated.

Today is Veterans Day, Armistice Day, Remembrance Day, and St. Martin of Tours' feast day.  Go spread some peace, 'cause I think that's how we should actually remember.  

I've completely neglected to post poems for the past two weeks, so have some Rilke.

I am much too alone in this world, yet not alone
to truly consecrate the hour.
I am much too small in this world, yet not small
to be to you just object and thing,
dark and smart.
I want my free will and want it accompanying
the path which leads to action;
and want during times that beg questions,
where something is up,
to be among those in the know,
or else be alone.

I want to mirror your image to its fullest perfection,
never be blind or too old
to uphold your weighty wavering reflection.
I want to unfold.
Nowhere I wish to stay crooked, bent;
for there I would be dishonest, untrue.
I want my conscience to be
true before you;
want to describe myself like a picture I observed
for a long time, one close up,
like a new word I learned and embraced,
like the everday jug,
like my mother's face,
like a ship that carried me along
through the deadliest storm.

-Rainer Marie Rilke 
trans. Annemarie S. Kidder
(I found the German original here, if anyone is interested)


  1. Here's hoping that all will be well, and all manner of things will be well.

  2. Seconded. Sending good thoughts your way.

    An ambiguously hopeful poem for the day:

    A voice, a voice from so far away
    It no longer makes the ears tingle.
    A voice like a muffled drum
    Still reaches us clearly.

    Though it seems to come from the grave
    It speaks only of summer and spring.
    It floods the body with joy.
    It lights the lips with a smile.

    I listen. It is simply a human voice
    Which passes over the noise of life and its battles
    The crash of thunder and the murmur of gossip.

    And you? Don't you hear it?
    It says, "The pain will soon be over."
    It says, "The happy season is near."

    Don't you hear it?

    - Robert Desnos, tr. William Kulik