#503 The Gentle Must Inherit the Earth

A new day!

I was intrigued when I discovered this New Year's poem by May Sarton.  Not only insightful and perceptive on the approaching 365 days but I felt she conveyed my thoughts on this upcoming twelve month period and saying good bye to the past.

After a bit of investigation on the internet I found she had died at the ripe old age of 85 of breast cancer. Unfortunately I could not locate any more information about how long she had lived with the disease or her views on what was happening during her declining health.

  She was a year older than I hope to be when I leave this earth (Remember my 7777+ days mantra?   That number would take me to 84 but I would love to hang on one more year to match this gifted writer's departure).  She left us with numerous writings and comforting reflections.  Read and enjoy.

New Year Poem

by May Sarton 

Let us step outside for a moment

As the sun breaks through clouds

And shines on wet new fallen snow,

And breathe the new air.

So much has died that had to die this year.

We are dying away from things.

It is a necessity—we have to do it

Or we shall be buried under the magazines,

The too many clothes, the too much food.

We have dragged it all around

Like dung beetles

Who drag piles of dung

Behind them on which to feed,

In which to lay their eggs.

Let us step outside for a moment

Among ocean, clouds, a white field,

Islands floating in the distance.

They have always been there.

But we have not been there.

We are going to drive slowly

And see the small poor farms,

The lovely shapes of leafless trees

Their shadows blue on the snow.

We are going to learn the sharp edge

Of perception after a day’s fast.

There is nothing to fear.

About this revolution…

Though it will change our minds.

Aggression, violence, machismo

Are fading from us

Like old photographs

Faintly ridiculous

(Did a man actually step like a goose

To instill fear?

Does a boy have to kill

To become a man?)

Already there are signs.

Young people plant gardens.

Fathers change their babies’ diapers

And are learning to cook.

Let us step outside for a moment.

It is all there

Only we have been slow to arrive

At a way of seeing it.

Unless the gentle inherit the earth

There will be no earth.

Remember gentle souls, we are still raising money for metastatic breast cancer--it will not end until we have a cure.  Go to UW Carbone Cancer Center and donate today.

Thanks for reading # 503 of 7777.