What is it about poetry that just makes time stand still? It gets me every time! National Poetry Month continues, and I find myself paying more attention to poems and poets – new and old. I came across this beautiful poem by Margaret Atwood just now (is there anything this woman can’t do?!), and I love it. Not sure I totally get it, but love it nonetheless. ;-)
Somehow even though she writes about unfurling, holding back, taking away, it makes me feel the opposite – letting go, exhaling, being at peace.
“the birds take back their language,
the cliffs fissure and collapse,
the air moves back from you like a wave
and you can’t breathe.”
I like the imagery of the pivotal moment, after years of a long voyage, standing in the centre of your room, house, or whatever anchor you have, and reflecting on how you got there, and owning your journey and the moment.
I love how she draws a parallel between the moment and layers it with the idea of trees unloosing their soft arms around you…
Layers and layers and layers of words, that create a poem. Actually Margaret Atwood says exactly this, in a quote of hers that I love:
Words definitely have power, and she knows how to spin them, craft them, rearrange them, to give them power that last a lifetime.
She's Come Undone 