April 23, 2008: Entry, Lisa Sewell
Entry
Lisa Sewell
Let the sea in my window every morning
remind me of the world and its long
thirsty life. Let me ask. Let me admit.
Let me draw myself into the picture
where everyone stands close together conversing
and not focus on the space that separates
one body from the other, deeds from intentions,
what is said from what is meant. Let me see instead
the eagerness with which they listen,
despite weariness from having crossed
wide distances to stand just so on this day, and notice
their shyness, the difficulty each has
returning the other’s gaze, but especially
the way their hands hang listless
as their sides, or jump nervously from hip to chin
or rest protectively across their chests
just below the vulnerable heart. Let me speak
and nod my head and occasionally touch
someone else’s shoulder, ignoring the hissing
vigilant voice that cautions no. Make me brave enough
to see my life as one more version of the human,
and exhausted enough to begin.
[A nepotistic guest post by Mairead, who knows the value of the cruelest month.]
More by Lisa Sewell:
Two poems: Evolution and Human Nature
Telling Them Apart
A year ago today: Meanwhile, Richard Siken
Two years ago: Preface to a Twenty Volume Suicide Note, Amiri Baraka
Three years ago: Holy Sonnet XIV, John Donne
