This Hope of Time

Pound out a poem
when your soul
feels empty, betrayed
by a loss, or
a distance, or
a failure.

Pound out a poem:
stretch your words
tight, like the
skin of deer
on ringed
wooden
rim.

Your voice… your stick
Your pain… your power
Your heartbeat… your hope.
Yes, hope, keeping
time because sometimes
this hope of time
is all we have.

9 thoughts on “This Hope of Time

  1. Mary Irene says:

    The power and capacity of our felt grief- in words and other expressions is extraordinary, sacred and sometimes freeing. Thank you for your poetry and how it speaks ❤

    • agjorgenson says:

      Yes, it is amazing how much power is in grief and I like the way you phrase: this can be ‘sacred and sometimes freeing.’ I am so glad you find that my poetry speaks to you Mary!

  2. This gave me a little nudge I needed. Thanks for encouragement. I may be on this side of the divide, but if not for my grief, I wonder sometimes. Would I be so convinced that this world remained beautiful? Capacity for deep grief, I understand, widens and spreads joy which isn’t the same as happiness.

  3. shoreacres says:

    As an aside, I agree about the distinction between joy and happiness, which is transitory. There’s a reason the title of Lewis’s book wasn’t “Surprised By Happiness.”

    The whole poem stands in fine opposition to the idea that poets are frail little creatures, and poetry itself is useless for any purpose in the real world. The best poem always points beyond itself — perhaps in different ways for different readers, but always in a way that evokes that “something extra” that makes certain poems so memorable to us.

    • agjorgenson says:

      I like the way you phrase that the poem “evokes ‘something extra’.” That seems to be different that containing something extra. A poem is like a witness, or perhaps a sign. I’ll think more about that, but it seems like a helpful distinction.

  4. Love the drum-beat of this poem, Allen, and the recognition of griefs it speaks to.

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