Monday, April 13, 2009

When I Open the Book

When I open the Book
I hear the poets whisper and weep,
Laugh and lament.

In a thousand languages
They say the same thing:
"We lived. The secret of life
Is love, which casts its wing
Over all suffering, which takes
In its arms the hurt child,
Which rises green from the fallen seed."
—Gregory Orr

We live.


Angela2932 said...

Maria, this poem is beautiful! Do you link to other poetry related blogs on the internet?

Angela2932 said...

Maria, this poem is so wonderful I had to come back and read it again. Just because, I decided to google "cuban poetry blog" and stumbled upon this blog:

I just thought you might be interested in all the wonderful links associated with it. . .

Maria said...

Thanks for sending me this blog. It does look very interesting. I've read some AmeriCuban works and have enjoyed them for capturing the dychotomy of being foreign-born and growing up in the U.S., the challenges of blending the Cuban culture, tradition and language with that of the U.S., and dealing with the legacy of communism.