It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends-
It gives a lovely light! - Edna St. Vincent Millay
I was in two separate gatherings today where I was reminded that we're all different. And that's OK. Fortunately, early this morning I was re-reading works from one of my favorite poets, Edna St. Vincent Millay.
Edna was a Pulitzer prize winning, feminist poet. She was also "out there." Her work showed it. I, myself, am a writer/poet and feminist. But I'm not like Edna. I live in my head. I like an ordered house and an ordered life. One word to describe me would be "responsible." One phrase to describe Edna would be "free spirit."
And yet she wrote a sonnet (I think in 1917) that describes my inability, at that time, to process sad, painful feelings. It gave me peace.
IF I SHOULD LEARN, IN SOME QUIET CASUAL WAY
If I should learn, in some quiet casual way,
That you were gone, not to return again'
Read from the back-page of a paper, say,
Held by a neighbor in a subway train,
How at the corner of this avenue
And such a street (so are the papers filled)
A hurrying man, who happened to be you,
At noon today and had happened to be killed-
I should not cry aloud-I could not cry
Aloud, or wring my hands in such a place-
I should but watch the station sights rush by
With a more careful interest on my face;
Or raise my eyes and read with great care
Where to store furs and how to treat the hair.
Following is the last stanza of one of Edna's poems that I think describes her but not me. However, it gives me joy.
We were very tired, we were very merry,
We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry.
We hailed, "Good morrow, mother!" to a shawl-covered head,
And bought a morning paper, which neither of us read;
And she wept, "God bless you!" for the apples and pears,
And we gave her all our money but our subway fares.
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