Rarely do I become moved by poetry. In fact, much of the time I just don't seem to understand it. Saturday Writers hosted a delightful speaker by the name of Anene Tressler-Hauschultz in March. She spoke of her use of poetry as a writing tool and read us the following poem. To speak lightly of the matter, I was moved.
I've used the poem several times since hearing it read, and it only seems fitting to share it here as well.
After Years
Today, from a distance, I saw you
walking away, and without a sound
the glittering face of a glacier
slid into the sea. An ancient oak
fell in the Cumberlands, holding only
a handful of leaves, and an old woman
scattering corn to her chickens looked up
for an instant. At the other side
of the galaxy, a star thirty-five times
the size of our own sun exploded
and vanished, leaving a small green spot
on the astronomer's retina
as he stood on the great open dome
of my heart with no one to tell.
walking away, and without a sound
the glittering face of a glacier
slid into the sea. An ancient oak
fell in the Cumberlands, holding only
a handful of leaves, and an old woman
scattering corn to her chickens looked up
for an instant. At the other side
of the galaxy, a star thirty-five times
the size of our own sun exploded
and vanished, leaving a small green spot
on the astronomer's retina
as he stood on the great open dome
of my heart with no one to tell.
Ted Kooser
Amazing poem. Glad it got you too.
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