Reading a poem.

I found myself with extra time one day (a very RARE occurrence in my life), and as usual, this found me in Barnes and Noble Booksellers reading something utterly random. This day it was a collection of poetry collected by Garrison Keillor. It is simply entitled, "Good Poems." It had been SO LONG since I had sat down and read poetry I thought I would spend my random free time doing that very thing. The book fell open to this poem about community and wisdom in finding our way and our voices. I loved it from the word "GO" and knew I HAD to read it here. I hope you enjoy it. For all you legal eagles, I am not making a single penny on this reading and all the credit can go to William Stafford for writing it. I present to you his poem, "A Ritual to Read to Each Other." (See, the very title tells me I should read it to you.)

If you don't know the kind of person I am

and I don't know the kind of person you are

a pattern that others made may prevail in the world

and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,

a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break

sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood

storming out to play through the broken dyke.

And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail,

but if one wanders the circus won't find the park,

I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty

to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,

a remote important region in all who talk:

though we could fool each other, we should consider--

lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

For it is important that awake people be awake,

 or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep,

the signals we give--yes or no, or maybe--

should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.

"A Ritual to Read to Each Other." William Stafford. Printed in "Good Poems" selected by Garrison Kiellor. pg 212 Publisher Penguin House. 2002.