I Am
I am! The ages on the ages roll:
And what I am, I was, and I shall be:
by slow growth filling higher Destiny,
And Widening, ever, to the widening Goal.
I am the Stone that slept; down deep in me
That old, old sleep has left its centurine trace;
I am the plant that dreamed; and lo! still see
That dream-life dwelling on the Human Face.
I slept, I dreamed, I wakened: I am Man!
The hut grows Palaces; the depths breed light;
Still on! Forms pass; but Form yields kinglier
Might!
The singer, dying where his song began,
In Me yet lives; and yet again shall he
Unseal the lips of greater songs To Be;
For mine the thousand tongues of Immortality.
- Voltaraine De Cleyre
Request Denied
At the end, no one showed but us:
distant daughter, twice-disowned son
and Wife #6, cracking gum, practicing
your signature on the back of your
withdrawal slip. Who else did you think
would come? From what source
a guest list drawn, a crowd to rally
as you sank, yacht-sails dragged through
water you fouled? Perhaps a priest to anoint
you, atheist, on your way down? Perhaps
Wife #4, bearing a basket of fruit and the knife
she tried to stab you with? Or would you
prefer to take int 5th?
Which of your siblings, long deleted from your
mailing list, did you expect to make the trip,
cough up six bucks for gas, plus tolls. And which
of us (your two children, known) owned you so much
as an hour of our grown-up time, you who never
held a hand or gave a dime?
Hard to admit; country-club Communist
short-tipping your caddy, sweet-timing
saccharine sugar daddy, buttering your way
in and out of wedding rings (more than
enough for one entire hand). In the end,
even you wanted tears and a 6-piece band.
How poorly you planned.
Susan Berlin
A WOMAN'S QUESTION
Do you know you have asked for the costliest thing
Ever made by the hand above?
A woman's heart, and a woman's life--
And a woman's wonderful love.
Do you know you have asked for this priceless thing
As a child might ask for a toy?
Demanding what others have died to win
With the reckless dash of a boy.
You have written my lesson of duty out,
Manlike, you have questioned me.
Now stand at the bars of my woman's soul
Until I shall question thee.
You require your mutton shall always be hot,
Your socks and your shirt be whole;
I require your heart be as true as God's stars
And as pure as His heaven your soul.
You require a cook for your mutton and beef,
I require a far greater thing;
A seamstress you're wanting for socks and shirts---
I look for a man and a king.
A king for the beautiful realm called Home,
And a man that his Maker, God,
Shall look upon as he did on the first
And say: "It is very good."
I am fair and young, but the rose may fade
From this soft young cheeck one day;
Will you love me then, 'mid the falling leaves
As you did 'mong the blossoms of May?
Is your heart an ocean so strong and true,
I may launch my all on its tide?
A loving woman finds heaven or hell
On the day she is made a bride.
I require all things that are grand and true,
All things that a man should be;
If you give this all, I would stake my life
To be all you demand of me.
If you cannot be this, a laundress and cook
You can hire and little to pay;
But a woman's heart and a woman's life
Are not to be won that way.
Lena Lathrop
