April 6, 2021: Remember Me

               Remember Me

I hope that you’ll remember me

As the one you really felt;

The one you perceived inside of me

Whom you could honor with your love.

 

I hope that you’ll remember me

As the man you really knew;

Not for who you wish I were,

Nor the role I seemed to fill.

 

I hope that you’ll remember me

As the wretch I really am.

Within the gorge of my estrangement

Flows the river of myself.

 

I hope that you’ll remember me

By my goodness and my strength,

As I have built my character

And channeled from beyond.

 

I hope that you’ll remember me

As someone always there;

As a Soul who loves you honestly

Beyond all my hope and wanting.

April 6, 2021: Love the Wild Swan by Robinson Jeffers in Oxford Anthology of Amer. Lit., pg 1,382

 Love the Wild Swan

'I HATE my verses, every line, every word
Oh pale and brittle pencils ever to try
One grass-blade's curve, or the throat of one bird
That clings to a twig, ruffled against white sky.
Oh cracked and twilight mirrors ever to catch
One color, one glinting flash, of the splendor of things,
Unlucky hunter, Oh bullets of wax,
The lion beauty, the wild-swan wings, the storm of the wings'
--This wild swan of a world is no hunter's game.
Better bullets than yours would miss the white breast,
Better mirrors than yours would crack in the flame.
Does it matter whether you hate your . . . self?  At least
Love your eyes that you can see, your mind that can
Hear the music, the thunder of the wings.
Love the wild swan.