I love this poem, I love every single word in it, and I wish that the YouTube video of Marty performing it was still up, she’s amazing, she’s Passion Incarnate and such a beautiful soul. Unfortunately, it was removed so instead I created an audio file of her speaking it, so that you could hear her magic.
One of the codes or beliefs or mantras I live by, it comes from words she speaks in this poem — do not let this universe regret you. Those are the most compelling and powerful words I’ve ever heard and each day I try to make something beautiful with my life, whether it’s something concrete or intangible, I want each day of my existence to lift up someone else.
I will not let this universe regret me.
Thank you, Marty, for being such a gorgeous Light in this world.
.
instructions for a body
praise the miracle body: the odd
and undeniable mechanics of hand,
hundred-boned foot, perfect stretch
of tendon
tell me there are no gods then,
no master plans for this anatomy
with its mobile and evident spark
someone says “children of light”
and another, “goddessfragment” and
another, “chosen” / a dozen makers,
myriad paths, one goal:
some scalpel, some chisel, some crazed
sentimental engineer giving rib, giving
eyelash, giving gut and thumb –
all mattering. all set down
in a going world, vulnerable
and divine
in the beginning was the word.
or before time there was a void
until a voice said “I” and was
or there was star and dust,
explosion and animal, mineral, us::
praise the veins that river these wrists
praise the prolapsed valve in a heart
praise the scars marking a gall bladder absent
praise the rasp and rattle of functioning lungs
praise the pre-arthritic ache of elbows
and ankles
praise the lifeline sectioning a palm
praise the photographic pads of fingertips
praise the vulnerable dip at the base of a throat
praise the muscles surfacing on an abdomen
praise these arms that carry babies
and anthologies
praise the leg hairs that sprout
and are shaved
praise the ass that refuses to shrink
or be hidden
praise the cunt that bleeds
and accepts, bleeds
and accepts
praise the prominent ridge
of nose
praise the strange convexity of ribcage
praise the single hair that insists on growing
from a right areola
praise the dent where the mole was clipped from the back
of a neck
praise these inner thighs brushing
praise these eyelashes that sometimes turn inward
praise these hips preparing to spread
into a grandmother’s skirt
praise the beauty of the freckle
on the first knuckle of a left little finger
we’re gone / in a blizzard of seconds
love the body human
while we’re here, a gift of minutes
on an evolving planet, a country
in flux / give thanks
what we take for granted, bone and dirt
and the million things that will kill us
someday, motion and the pursuit
of happiness / no guarantees / give thanks
for chaos theory, ecology, common sense that says
we are web. a planet in balance or out, the butterfly
in tokyo setting off thunderstorms in iowa,
tell me you don’t matter to a universe that conspired
to give you such a tongue, such rhythm
or rhythmless hips, such opposable thumbs –
give thanks or go home a waste of spark
speak or let the maker take back your throat
march or let the creator rescind your feet
dream or let your god destroy your good and fertile mind
this is your warning / this
your birthright / do not let
this universe regret you.
Oh, my God … this is … incredible! Thank you for sharing this!
You are so welcome! The first time I heard this — it had me in tears, just rocked me right down to the core. So beautiful.
So beautiful..
Some poems resonate with me because of the particular circumstance I find myself in at a particular point in time. Tonight, I am reading this poem, and I feel caught in that in-between space of unrealized possibilities, of waiting and wanting. I sit in front of the computer, fingers hovering over the keyboard, for a very long time. And there are no words.
From An Atlas of the Difficult World
I know you are reading this poem
late, before leaving your office
of the one intense yellow lamp-spot and the darkening window
in the lassitude of a building faded to quiet
long after rush-hour. I know you are reading this poem
standing up in a bookstore far from the ocean
on a grey day of early spring, faint flakes driven
across the plains' enormous spaces around you.
I know you are reading this poem
in a room where too much has happened for you to bear
where the bedclothes lie in stagnant coils on the bed
and the open valise speaks of flight
but you cannot leave yet. I know you are reading this poem
as the underground train loses momentum and before running
up the stairs
toward a new kind of love
your life has never allowed.
I know you are reading this poem by the light
of the television screen where soundless images jerk and slide
while you wait for the newscast from the intifada.
I know you are reading this poem in a waiting-room
of eyes met and unmeeting, of identity with strangers.
I know you are reading this poem by fluorescent light
in the boredom and fatigue of the young who are counted out,
count themselves out, at too early an age. I know you are reading this poem through your failing sight, the thick
lens enlarging these letters beyond all meaning yet you read on
because even the alphabet is precious.
I know you are reading this poem as you pace beside the stove
warming milk, a crying child on your shoulder, a book in your
hand
because life is short and you too are thirsty.
I know you are reading this poem which is not in your language
guessing at some words while others keep you reading
and I want to know which words they are.
I know you are reading this poem listening for something, torn
between bitterness and hope
turning back once again to the task you cannot refuse.
I know you are reading this poem because there is nothing else
left to read
there where you have landed, stripped as you are.
(A. Rich)
Adrienne Rich! I did my senior thesis on that poem, it KILLED me, she's so incredible, oh how I love her. And yes, the last section of the poem, it tore my heart out, laid me flat. I totally agree with you about the circumstances where you first meet a poet or find a poem, it stays with you, this poem always feels like the middle of the humid summer night to me.
The in-between space, it's a good place to be, and also scary. The limitless possibilities, thinking about which direction to move in or to stay away from, for that matter. Having come from there in the not too-distant past, I have to say that it felt really good.
Thank you for sharing this poem, it's been a beautiful part of the day.
Oh
my
gosh.
All I can say is that I had chills all over my entire body the whole time I was listening to this. I feel blown away. Cracked open.
Wow. Seriously, wow.
P.S: Jenn, thank you so much for sharing this…it is my sustenance for the day. And something I will digest again and again.
Dear Jenn:
What a wonderful thing to open my computer to on a frozen Thursday with an achingly long to-do list on my left!
This poem has taken on a life of its own, and for that and for everyone who has moved it along in the world, I'm so grateful. There's simply nothing better than to know that your art is making change in the world.
THAT ADRIENNE RICH POEM — it is hands-down one of my favorites, perhaps my most favorite, in the world. I used it in a workshop a month or so ago, and as always teared up when I got to "because life is short and you too are thirsty." From there to the end, I'm just bleeding all over the poem.
much love, much strength, many poems –
Marty
Julia — Yes, yes, yes. Cracked wide open. I come back to this poem over & over, whenever things feel rough, I read these words and feel recommitted to this crazy path and in love with this beautiful messy life. I'm so glad that it's touched your heart, as well.
Thank you for reading, thank you for being here.
Marty — I'm so happy that this brought a spot of warmth and sunshine to your day! Your poetry, your art — thank you, so much, for speaking these words, for every thing you've given, to me and so many others. You changed my life, shifted something fundamental inside of me, and it's with a grateful heart that I'm writing these words.
That whole part, yes! It tears at my soul and this line: "I know you are reading this poem through your failing sight, the thick lens enlarging these letters beyond all meaning yet you read on because even the alphabet is precious." Adrienne Rich, she's a warrior.
Sending you love and peace.
I….I ….what do I say? Nothing.
I just thank you for sharing.
Speechless in awe.
This was achingly beautiful, worthy of the quick little tears I shed not out of sadness but out of gratitude for reading something that resonated within me and permanently – and positively – altered my approach to life. Thank you.
Wow! I just stumbled on to the blog and read the poem with tears in my eyes. Amazing and inspirational.
Thank you so very much. Namaste.