My Poetry
The reader may know me in these pages as a poet and social critic - and in a small way that is true.
I wish I were better at it.
But all of us are poets or artists of one kind or another.
Each human life is a great work of art.
I puzzle at times to see my wife laugh at a situation comedy on television when she herself and our other acquaintances are often comic and tragic both, but rea1.
"Good Morning, America." (TV)
"Good morning!" (my wife)
When my daughter heard about this episode with her mother she laughed until she said her side hurt.
I think God (or Wisdom) takes delight in His (or her) creatures, and although actors are diverting, real life people with no shame are fascinating. To repeat, each one of us is a poem or work of art.
I think it was Mother Theresa of Calcutta who said she wanted to do "something beautiful for God."
We eke out our poems or canvases as best we can with all our limitations, and the manual laborer produces the expanding fabric of the universes.
This also is a poem.
My poem has flaws.
Maybe yours as well.
No matter.
With good will, they are fragrant like cinnamon and we are the gardens where spices grow - all of us, worker, boss, man, woman, child regardless of political affiliations or economic theories or worth.
What we need - I'm quoting - is a change of heart.
But I'll be cranky and repeat myself that cybernetics and television are not as solid/real as a stone, a leaf, tree bark, and a brook.
Are we hiding in caves nowadays to escape the dies irae?
Richard Kovac