Poetry Monday: The gifts we give and are given

Over two years ago, I had a moment where I decided there wasn’t enough poetry in my life. There wasn’t a chance for me to sink into the song of words as much as I wanted. It was then that I discovered Poem-A-Day through the Academy of American Poets. And I’ll admit, I don’t always read them as they come through in my inbox, but it’s a daily newsletter I can’t seem to let go of. It’s an amazing reminder to me of the beauty of words and of human creation.

The Gift

by Chard deNiord

In memory of Ruth Stone (June 8th, 1915-November 19th, 2011)

“All I did was write them down
wherever I was at the time, hanging
laundry, baking bread, driving to Illinois.
My name was attached to them
on the page but not in my head
because the bird I listened to outside
my window said I couldn’t complain
about the blank in place of my name
if I wished to hold both ends of the wire
like a wire and continue to sing instead
of complain. It was my plight, my thorn,
my gift-the one word in three I was
permitted to call it by the Muse who took
mercy on me as long as I didn’t explain.”


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