Obama's inauguration poem

[theatokos]

Each day we go about our business,
walking past each other, catching each other’s
eyes or not, about to speak or speaking.

All about us is noise. All about us is
noise and bramble, thorn and din, each
one of our ancestors on our tongues.

Someone is stitching up a hem, darning
a hole in a uniform, patching a tire,
repairing the things in need of repair.

Someone is trying to make music somewhere,
with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum,
with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.

A woman and her son wait for the bus.
A farmer considers the changing sky.
A teacher says, Take out your pencils. Begin.

We encounter each other in words, words
spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed,
words to consider, reconsider.

We cross dirt roads and highways that mark
the will of some one and then others, who said
I need to see what’s on the other side.

I know there’s something better down the road.
We need to find a place where we are safe.
We walk into that which we cannot yet see.

Say it plain: that many have died for this day.
Sing the names of the dead who brought us here,
who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges,

picked the cotton and the lettuce, built
brick by brick the glittering edifices
they would then keep clean and work inside of.

Praise song for struggle, praise song for the day.
Praise song for every hand-lettered sign,
the figuring-it-out at kitchen tables.

Some live by love thy neighbor as thyself,
others by first do no harm or take no more
than you need. What if the mightiest word is love?

Love beyond marital, filial, national,
love that casts a widening pool of light,
love with no need to pre-empt grievance.

In today’s sharp sparkle, this winter air,
any thing can be made, any sentence begun.
On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp,

praise song for walking forward in that light.


When I heard it live I deliberately held my judgment in check, for I am a notorious poetry hater. Not that I hate poetry, but that I think most is crap. I didn't think that Ms. Alexander did a very good job of reading her poem. But at the end I decided that I liked it. I also thought it had a very pagan feel to it. I don't know anything about her spiritual leanings. Any one else get a pagan flavor from it?

Comments

[amyura.livejournal.com]

I'm a notorious sucker for poetry-- I love it. But I gotta admit, I didn't like this one.

Like you, I held my judgment in check, but I still think it kinda sucks.

However, it is growing on me. The poor delivery (and was it ever!) made it seem worse than it is. Then I read it, but not written in verse, just printed in the NYT prosaically. It definitely "sounds" better in my head written out the way it's supposed to be.

The last three verses definitely have a pagan feel to them.

[amyura.livejournal.com]

I should clarify.....when I said "I love it," the "it" is POETRY. Not this particular poem :)

[ewigweibliche.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I don't love this one either. I like though. It feels quintessentially American to me. Simple. Reflecting values I share. So it's hard for me not to like it. The delivery down right stank.

One of my coworkers is an honest-to-god poet and she also was not impressed by the delivery, nor by the poem.

[amyura.livejournal.com]

Yeah, one of my best friends (RL and LJ) is a poet (teaches creative writing at BU, has been published, the whole shebang) and hated it.

[donkeyfly.livejournal.com]

yeah, not a fan. it sounds like a college writing class poem.

[ewigweibliche.livejournal.com]

And the ending feels really awkward. Almost like this was a second draft and then she just decided to be done. Hm, almost like it's two poems in one. I like "on the brink, on the brim, on the cusp" but then the last line is like some weird abrupt shift and end.

Edited to add: So maybe I don't like it. Hm, I am ambivalent. Which is perhaps the worst feeling that can be provoked by art.

[introducingyael.livejournal.com]

I heard it read and I thought it was so stereotypically done, so mechanical.
ETA: "What if the mightiest word is love?" Oh, the originality. It kills me.

[ewigweibliche.livejournal.com]

Yes, the more I think about this poem, the more I think "enh."

[erinya.livejournal.com]

I didn't get a chance to see/hear the poem, but I heard the delivery was awful. I like it, though. I like what it says about words and connections and beginnings and hope, and I like its simplicity. It's not absolutely spectacular genius poetry but it says what it means to say and I find it moving.

I don't get a specifically/intentionally pagan feel from it, necessarily, but I think there are ideas there that are common to every wisdom tradition.

(This comment is reminding me that I want to read, and write, more poetry.)

[seagull42.livejournal.com]

I'd agree that the poem has more of a pan-tradition feel to me than being specifically pagan.

I don't know if it's intentional on her part, but I do know that Elizabeth Alexander is a teacher of African-American studies, and that the Yoruban word "Oriki" is often translated as "praise poetry" or "praise song" (One form of Oriki being praise songs to Orisa or the Creator.)

And though I suspect it's more likely a reference to the Hippocratic Oath, I could take "Some live by love thy neighbor as thyself, others by first do no harm or take no more than you need." to be read as "Some live by the Bible, some by the Wiccan Rede, and some by other philosophy of sharing with others".

"On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp" sounds very familiar to me, but I can't quite place it...

I don't know if it's great poetry, but I did like the sentiment it expressed to me.

I also found it interesting that Rush Limbaugh actually attacked the poem by playing sound bites and then making derogatory comments, but didn't (at least for the 10 minutes I could stand to listen) do the same for Obama's inaugural speech. Instead making a non-specific deriding comment about how the speech was meaningless and didn't say anything, and then returning to trashing the poem.

[eye-of-zohar.livejournal.com]

I was majorly underwhelmed by this. I was frankly surprised at the poor delivery and the lack of "poetry" of the language. It came across very mundane, trite, flat, and clumsy.

I'm not a poetry person, but contrasted with, say Mary Oliver, this one left me cold.

[alizarin71.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I thought it blew chunks. The delivery was so stereotypical--and such a shame, since her poem is comprised of such simple, common words, clearly on purpose. The best way to let us savor that kind of thing would be to read it normally, like Billy Collins, and let _us_ interpret their impact. When I heard her read it, I thought, "She's out of her league here. She's wondering where the poetry slam is."

Despite that, there are many wonderful turns of phrase in the poem. I found the whole idea of it--"Say it plain: that many have died for this day" so stirring. And most of the poem evokes that theme in the most quotidian ways, with a great Every(wo)man feel, reminding me of Whitman.

But "What if the mightiest word is love"--BLOOOUEAAAGGHH.... Crazy Uncle Walt is turning in his grave....

(Pastor Shit-eating-grin from the Saddlebacking Church was also out of his league, although in a different way. Aw, but I should stop....)

[ewigweibliche.livejournal.com]

Yeah, out of their league big time. The benediction prayer was great. Just right on. But Warren's was like bland lumpy oatmeal before Chez Panisse.