I’ve been feeling overwhelmed by the freelance life lately, and discouraged by my writing career–where it’s at, where it’s going, how long I can keep up the work necessary to satisfy both the family budget and the writing I love to do. I know some things need to change, but I’m not sure what…or how.
So it was lovely to talk yesterday with Susan Taylor Brown about reinventing ourselves and our careers. She’s in town for Kidlit Con 2010, and we’re spending the afternoon today exploring the topic further and maybe coming up with some concrete plans.
My feeling of renewal made this poem feel like the right choice this morning. It’s by Lilian Moore, from Something New Begins (Atheneum, 1966, out of print, but you can sometimes find used copies around):
Recycled
Plank
by plank and
beam
by beam
they opened up the barn,
unsealed
each solid seam,
revealed
its corners to the sky,
and took its wood.
Wood
with weather in its
grain,
its flanks windrubbed and
stained by
rain
and holding deep the pungency
of cow and
hay.
Beam
on beam and
plank
on plank and
miles away,
the barn wood rose, and
closed
around a home.
This sheltering wood is
not yet
done
with ice,
with sun.
–Lilian Moore, all rights reserved
Isn’t that gorgeous? I feel windrubbed and stained, but I’m feeling a little hope that I can continue on with what I love to do, plank by plank, word by word.
Andi at A Wrung Sponge has the Poetry Friday roundup today. Go recycle your spirits with some beautiful poems and posts!