Day: January 22, 2010

To say that it has been an unusual week is an exercise in the most blatant understatement. I have not really been awake, it seems, nor really slept. It is not just that I have a STICKER on my book now, and will be trekking to Washington D.C. in June to receive a national honor. It is not solely the notes from the courteous, the curious, and the genteel, all wishing me the best. It is my own small self, by turns stuttering and flushing, and wishing for grace, and my larger self, thinking ahead to opportunities and hopefulness.

No happiness – for me, anyway – is ever unmixed. Mine is already blended with terror and dread — and meeting many of you in person is six long months away! But already I am in a bit of a spin, wondering if I have to say anything in a microphone. It’s ridiculous. I know. What we imagine is always immeasurably worse than the reality, but my, what we can imagine. I am not yet dreaming of spilling food on myself, but I’ve dreamed already of tripping. (I blame my friend Jennifer who is already trying to suggest shoes to me. SHOES.Platform sandals!? Please. Shoes must be flat, to facilitate fleeing the scene, thank you. I am not my Grandma Mary with the stilettos.) My joy is spiked with a little panic; the sweetness brushed with a hint of tart. That’s usually the way it is with my favorite things, and my poetry today reflects this. Today’s selections are excerpts of two poems – both by men, both dealing, oddly, with fruit — and the distillation of joy.

Cranberry-Orange Relish ~ by John Engels

A pound of ripe cranberries, for two days
macerate in a dark rum, then do not
treat them gently, but bruise,
mash, pulp, squash
with a wooden pestle
to an abundance of juices, in fact
until the juices seem on the verge

of overswelling the bowl, then drop in
two fistsful, maybe three, of fine-
chopped orange with rind, two golden
blobs of it, and crush
it in, and then add sugar, no thin
sprinkling, but a cupful dumped
and awakened with a wooden spoon

to a thick suffusion, drench of sourness, bite of color,
then for two days let conjoin
the lonely taste of cranberry,
the joyous orange…

…

…let it be eaten
so that our hearts may be together overrun
with comparable sweetnesses,
tart gratitudes, until finally,
dawdling and groaning, we bear them
to the various hungerings
of our beds, lightened
of their desolations.

And you can read the whole of this loveliness — as well as get a boozy cranberry relish recipe — right here

Now, that is a Thanksgiving poem, but it seemed appropriate for today. I’m grateful – and nervous – and feeling those tart gratitudes for the sweetness that has been offered. And now, on to summer:

– excerpted from From Blossoms, by Li-Young Lee

…
…
…
… O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach.

There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.

I can’t wait for summer sun and peaches again. Maybe in June, in D.C…. Please, read the whole of Li-Young Lee’s poem here.

Poetry Friday today is brought to you by Liz in Ink, where you’ll always find sweetness and joy. Liz has had a surprising week as well – can’t wait to cheer for her as she and Marla collect that well-earned Caldecott Honor.

Happiness, calm, and joy unalloyed to you this day. Happy Poetry Friday.