Inspiration for writing a poem can come from anywhere. I have learned to pay attention to the signs and thank the universe when words become poems. This week I read Eleanor Wilner’s poem “Of a Sun She can Remember”. This poem is a renga poem in which she took the last line of another poem to become her title.
I used the last line of Wilner’s poem, along with other ideas, lines, words from my daily reading to create a poem.
The Golden Net of Meaning in the Light
after Eleanor Wilner
When a missile misses its mark,
children die.
When channels are closed,
prices rise.
Choose your trouble.
Turn your blinded eyes toward the sun.
Pace the meadow filled with butterweed.
Give your heart-swift
to the clouds hovering.
We are all connected
as the golden cross-hatched web
tethered between rose bushes.
What I need to say—
After the rain,
birds sing
a glorious chorus.Margaret Simon, drafted
Pádraig Ó Tuama
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Reflections on the Teche 
Oh, how beautiful! What a reminder that we all need – – the web of interconnectedness. I have O’Tuama’s book Unbound on an interlibrary loan and can’t wait to delve in this weekend. I remember he spoke to the Stafford Challenge members the first year.
I subscribe to Pádraig’s substack and lifted a line from him. I am often touched deeply by his work.
We are all connected… seems many no longer grasp this truth…
The lines come together here to affirm the truth
Beautiful poem Margaret with such care in chosen words to build it, missiles, hovering clouds, rose bushes— yet the birds are there singing, if we could only learn from the birds and not man’s missiles… thanks!
“Turn your blinded eyes toward the sun.” Wow. Powerful lines here. I see Pádraig Ó Tuama after your poem, but I’m not sure what his name is referencing?
The line is italics is his “What I need to say.” I should’ve made that clearer. Thanks for reading.
Wow, this poem is a zinger from the start. Your careful word choice and juxtapositions are a study in craft. Golden lines for me- “We are all connectedas the golden cross-hatched webtethered between rose bushes.” Thank you for sharing.
Swooning, Margaret, over “Give your heart-swift” and the solace of nature found in your poem! Thank you!
Oh how beautiful and how sad the reflection on this very long week that has become so unreal I struggle to even write about what is going on in our names. Your line, that I will carry with me, “We are all connected,” is one I would like to send on tee shirts to a lot of people.
Thanks for the bayou picture, Margaret, and a testament to paying attention, even when it hurts, and finding some solace that light can be there, too! Yes! “Give your heart.” I liked reading how you came to write this poem.
When I read your slice, your poem, and Eleanor Wilner’s “Of a Sun She Can Remember,” I immediately thought of Isabel Wilkerson’s book “The Warmth of Other Suns: The Epic Story of America’s Great Migration.” It seems that in these four, sun and light are the golden threads creating a web of memory and hope and freedom. Hmm. I need to ponder this more.
Margaret, this poem is so beautiful. Your word choice is perfect. The mood is mesmerized. Thanks for crafting it for us.
The juxtaposition of the unthinkable with the solace found in nature is so powerful. Love the ultimate message about interconnectedness. Beautifully crafted poem. 🙂 And thanks for the photo; had not seen butterweed before.
Margaret, your poem really speaks to this week’s atrocities. Every day I wonder when they will end. This week I also heard more birds in the morning as some return to the yard and others pass through on their way north. At twilight I’ve heard but can’t see a Great Horned Owl. Lately it seems I’m often horrified (at the state of the world) and often seeking solace, so thank you for the poem this morning.
My poem this week was the product of weaving, but you are truly the queen of weaving lines and ideas. This poem is brilliant!
This poem packs an honest punch from the start but ends on a hopeful note. The birds beginning to appear and sing do bring me hope. Let’s pray the “rain” will stop soon.
After the rain,
birds sing
a glorious chorus.
A beautiful poem, Margaret. You’ve reminded me of Wendell Berry’s “The Peace of Wild Things.”
“We are all connected.”
No wonder these times hurt my heart so much.