‘Tis of thee, ’tis of thee, ’tis of thee,
of thee I sing, sweet heart,
my pith, my mind, my core,
my courage and my coeur de chant.
We are the whole damn chorus coming down
raining sad songs for all the weary world.
My tympanist, my diastolic, my systolic dance,
my own hell-heaven, coloratura and my profundo.
Let’s sing our opera in Italian so
we move ourselves to tears, and join the flow…

che faro senza Euridice?
dov’ andro senza il mio ben?

Sweet heart of many gratis blessings,
passion and compassion when they come,
only hum for one more time the aria

piu succorso, piu speranza
ne d’al mondo, ne d’al ciel….

but please, dear heart, don’t go with Orfeo.
Don”t break.
Let singing be ablution, water be the gift of tears.
Let memory remain where it belongs–
only a part of the wholehearted song.
And let us rise out of this place—
grab a towel now, begin to climb—
into the wilderness and music of emerging time.


20 responses »

  1. A funny thing happened as I began my planned sabbatical from poetry for the month of August. Poems started happening to me. One morning I awoke with the first lines of this one already saying themselves and finished it in a day..Since then I’ve “found” several others. This is not my usual experience……which is more labor intensive and busy with revision. Is this what some people call an epiphany? Anyhow I just can’t seem to get away….and maybe that’s okay.

  2. Hi Cyn,
    Wow! I thought you were taking a respite from writing poetry! I just savored this poem. It brought all the emotions to a crescendo!! (if that makes sense, but who wants to make sense?) A delightful evening treat. I’m glad my Internet is up and running now. Cyn

      • I think you’ll enjoy your new internet set-up. By the way, wordpress lets me know who sends these comments even if you don’t sign off……this cybernetic age has kissed goodbye to anonymity as well as privacy alas……..à bientôt!

    • None of it makes sense….I was taking myself away from writing poetry, but it wouldn’t take itself away from me. I’ m glad you liked this as a “crescendo”, to keep to the musical image!

    • You’re right about clock time, Eric, and this one came from a cloudless place where myth still lives. It wasn’t Orpheus’s season in hell that did him in. It was that he turned to look back.

  3. Delightful poem with a great climax – I love those final three lines.
    And let us rise out of this place—
    grab a towel now, begin to climb—
    into the wilderness and music of emerging time.
    My blog wish is that you may enjoy many more musical mornings!

  4. Very well done with the singing Cynthia. I don’t remember the sound being there before. You are demonstrating one advantage of this medium, the internet, over the printed book — although that, we agree, has it’s permanent place!

    • No, the sound wasn’t there before, John. I experiment, assuming no one is watching 🙂 So many questions about sound and rhythm (yuck, rap?) and the predominance of (nature) imagery, have me wondering about what poetry is, in our time….not to mention our more philosophical friends’ trying to define it for all time in terms academic, obtuse and theological….You and I agree on the solidity of the printed book…an ordinary person can carry it, pick it up,, hear the sound in his own head, put it down, remember, go back, etc….etc..without middlemen or electricity…how can that ever be improved upon, really? I love that you check back here, and am always pleased to know your thoughts..thank you!

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