{ Muriel Rukeyser: Waking This Morning. }

[delga]

This Morning
by Muriel Rukeyser

Waking this morning,
a violent woman in the violent day
laughing.
                                     Past the line of memory
along the long body of your life
in which move childhood, youth, your lifetime of touch,
eyes, lips, chest, belly, sex, legs, to the waves of the sheet.
I look past this little planet
on the city windowsill
to the tall towers’ bookshapes, crushed together in greed,
the river flashing flowing corroded,
the intricate harbor and the sea, the wars, the moon the planets
                    all who people space
in the sun visible invisible.
African violets in the light
breathing, in a breathing universe.          I want strong peace, and delight,
the wild good.
I want to make my touch poems:
to find my morning, to find you entire
alive moving among the anti-touch people.

                                          I say across the waves of the air to you:
today once more
I will try to be non-violent
one more day
this morning, waking this world away
in this violent day.