Wednesday, January 25, 2017

January 25: Small Happinesses, Shared Moments, James Wright, "Northern Pike"

I am not a fisherman, but the poem below makes me happy.

Right now, I have to hold on to the happiness of small moments.  Sharing fries with my son at McDonald's.  Getting a text from a friend that I haven't heard from in a long time.  Watching an episode of American Horror Story with my daughter.  Making my wife really laugh, so long it makes her breathless.

That's what I'm concentrating on tonight.  Small happinesses.  Yes, there's a whole lot that's wrong with the world right now.  Stuff that really frightens me.  But, there are always chances for shared fries and laughter.  Small blessings.

Saint Marty is going to share hot chocolate with his daughter tonight.

Northern Pike

by:  James Wright

All right. Try this,
Then. Every body
I know and care for,
And every body
Else is going
To die in a loneliness
I can't imagine and a pain
I don't know. We had
To go on living. We
Untangled the net, we slit
The body of this fish
Open from the hinge of the tail
To a place beneath the chin
I wish I could sing of.
I would just as soon we let
The living go on living.
An old poet whom we believe in
Said the same thing, and so
We paused among the dark cattails and prayed
For the muskrats,
For the ripples below their tails,
For the little movements that we knew the crawdads were making
        under water,
For the right-hand wrist of my cousin who is a policeman.
We prayed for the game warden's blindness.
We prayed for the road home.
We ate the fish.
There must be something very beautiful in my body,
I am so happy.

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