Welcome to the first day of July. In a few days, the United States of American celebrates Independence Day. For me, it's a bittersweet holiday, because of the current political situation here. Freedom seems to be at a premium right now, as well as truth and compassion.
In times like this, I think that words are important. Language is important. Poetry is important. It serves as a balm in times of struggle. It lifts the spirit, soothes, heals.
I celebrate everything that Independence Day represents. Freedom. Choice. Love. Truth. Empathy. Happiness. Beauty. Courage. Compassion. A welcoming heart.
Funny, that's a pretty good description of poetry, too.
Saint Marty's just sayin'.
Section 9 of "Spring" from Yellow Dog Journal
by: Judith Minty
All winter, my poems
were thin and icy, my head
filled with other people's words.
Those dark months, I lived
in the corners of failure
Now, here by the river,
the hermit thrush opens his throat,
lines flow over the page, the afternoon sun
warms my shoulders, my back
in its slow circle.