Fare thee well, 2013.

31 December 2013: Poetry Challenge

Last day. Feels strange. Do I pick something special? Is every poem special? 365 days. I’ve read at least 365 poems this year, though many more, often 3 or 4 just searching for the poem I want to write about, plus more for fun. When I saw the following in my mailbox, I knew what I had to do.

“It’s all I have to bring today” Emily Dickinson

If you know me at all, you know I dislike Emily Dickinson. Sure, I liked her when I was young. She was one of the first poets I read and devoured as I was discovering my love for reading and writing in my early teens. And I think her life’s story held a strong appeal for me. I wouldn’t be where I am today without her, but man, I often feel her work is contrived and didactic and insincere. Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! This is just an invitation to many intelligent and appalled people around the globe. Don’t fret. You are totally smart and wonderful, even, and especially, if you love Dickinson. But preference and taste are subjective, and I don’t think I’ll ever come to love her as many do. That being said, I just read Dog Years by Mark Doty. It was amazing, and I love love love Mark Doty. Always have. Always will. He seems to admire Ms. D very much, so I started rethinking my whole "I Hate ED" spiel. It seems only fitting that I should end the year by giving the girl a chance. Well, maybe not a chance, but a shout-out. Compassion begins with an attempt at understanding where another is coming from. We could all use more compassion, so I’ll start with a person I have referred to in many unfavorable terms this past year.

It’s all I have to bring today

It's all I have to bring today-- 

This, and my heart beside-- 

This, and my heart, and all the fields-- 

And all the meadows wide-- 

Be sure you count--should I forget 

Some one the sum could tell-- 

This, and my heart, and all the Bees 

Which in the Clover dwell.

- Emily Dickinson

I’m not going to lie. I like this poem. I like it a lot (This does not mean I like ED’s body of work!). It’s short and sweet, which I admire in a poem. It also has just the right amount of repetition, which is nice, as well as difficult to pull off. The bees are wonderful. How is it that bees can be so scary and sexy simultaneously? And what is “it”? She  never says. She brings “it” and her heart. “It” could be anything! There’s a real sense of finality and confidence in this poem, a “Here is my heart. Take it or leave it” sentiment, yet underneath that, an implied vulnerability. Of course, in poetry we layer our own meaning onto others’ poems, so maybe I am way off base. But what I feel here is the joy of love with the slightest hint of fear that accompanies such a feeling. Take it or leave it.