 | Courage |
 | |
Courage
~Anne Sexton
It is in the small things we see it.
The child’s first step,
as awesome as an earthquake.
The first time you rode a bike,
wallowing up the sidewalk.
The first spanking when your heart
went on a journey all alone.
When they called you crybaby
or poor or fatty or crazy
and made you into an alien,
you drank their acid
and concealed it.
Later,
if you faced the death of bombs and bullets
you did not do it with a banner,
you did it with only a hat to
cover your heart.
You did not fondle the weakness inside you
though it was there.
Your courage was a small coal
that you kept swallowing.
If your buddy saved you
and died himself in so doing,
then his courage was not courage,
it was love; love as simple as shaving soap.
Later,
if you have endured a great despair,
then you did it alone,
getting a transfusion from the fire,
picking the scabs off your heart,
then wringing it out like a sock.
Next, my kinsman, you powdered your sorrow,
you gave it a back rub
and then you covered it with a blanket
and after it had slept a while
it woke to the wings of the roses
and was transformed.
Later,
when you face old age and its natural conclusion
your courage will still be shown in the little ways,
each spring will be a sword you’ll sharpen,
those you love will live in a fever of love,
and you’ll bargain with the calendar
and at the last moment
when death opens the back door
you’ll put on your carpet slippers
and stride out.
***
I was on a call last night when the conversation took an unexpected turn and where it all ended up was in the discussion of poetry. I was reminded of this, my most favorite poem by most favorite poet. This is the first and, so far, the only poem that has actually made me cry.
It’s about time I included it in our ever growing collection. I hope it moves you as it moved me.
xo, Angela
Stunning. Thank you.
“you drank their acid
and concealed it.” God, how often do we still do that!? I see why you love this poet, Angela.
Thank you sweet Angela for sharing a truly moving poem. A distillation of life lived bravely.
WOW…about all I can contribute!
Thanks, Angela…
Yes, it is in the small things that many of the greatest miracles of our lives are born.
From our first little spanking and the “crime” that we committed to earn this to our first excursion into the world as some little person on a mission.
This poem is sweet and bitersweet, as life often is.
Thank you for sharing this work Dear Lady.
You are right to consider this your favorite poem. So beautiful and so true.
Angela, you are too young to know how well Ms. Sexton captures the anquishes and small treasures of later life. But, as I have always known, you are wise in your soul. A good choice for your favorite.
Angie, may all your sorrows “wake to the wings of the roses and be transformed.” Love you, kid.
I’m looking for a modern male poet with similar sensibilities. Billy Collins and Donald Hall don’t quite do it for me (although I like Hall a lot.) Any suggestions?
Most ryhming poetry makes me cry… and cringe. Does that count? :p