Author Information
Good Old Mother Death
Folder:
The Everyday Battle Good old Mother Death
For at the ends of our troubles
We can run into her arms
Sleep the endless sleep
And dream of better things
These harlequin masks I've worn for so long
They won't come off of my face
Every day, with different people
A separate reflection looks back at me
I do so many things
That I don't want to do
“Oh be careful little eyes,
Oh be careful little ears”
For what we've experienced
Will never leave us
Why do I want people around me
When all I do is push them away
Why do I build myself up
Only by tearing others down?
I have been reading the Poet,
I have been reading the Poet, Wallace Stevens, since October 12, 1978. One of his greatest poems, Sunday Morning, contains the line, "Death is the mother of beauty." Your poem made me think back to that; and any poem that can channel Wallace Stevens as I read it is, in my mind, a mighty fine poem indeed. I applaud your accomplishment.
Starward