Sometimes, I wish I were a poet.
When I read the poems that Garrison Keillor selects for the Writer's Almanac each morning, I wish I could write poetry like Billy Collins or Emily Dickinson or Maya Angelou . . .
When I discovered the book of Shakespeare's sonnets while I was purging last week--the book I thought I'd tossed out years ago--and I read those lovely, lovely words again, I wished I were poet.
When a friend left this nugget of e.e. cummings's poem "i carry your heart with me," on Facebook this morning, I so much wished I were a poet:
"here is the deepest secret nobody knowsIn Her Shoes. It starred Toni Collette and Cameron Diaz as sisters who struggled with the differences between them. At the end of the film, Diaz's character recites that poem at her sister's wedding, a gift of love from one sister to the other. Of course, Kate and I giggled at each other as we wept buckets of tears at that scene, but those words, those simple, elegant words touched us both and brought us closer that night, I think.
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)"
"i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)"That poem makes me miss my sister so very much, and makes me wish I were a poet . . .