Today's installment of Poetry Friday is a nod to courage; specifically, the courage of civil rights activist Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. KNAU listener Tim Aydelott, a retired English teacher, was reminded of Dr. King while reading a poem by Anne Sexton, simply titled 'Courage'. He shares it with us on this first day of Black History Month.
Tim Aydelott:
I thought of this poem around Martin Luther King Day. And I think of King not only having great eloquence, great vision, but he was somebody who must have had great courage to do what he did in the face of threats on his life from the moment he spoke publicly after Rosa Parks was arrested.
I like the way this poem talks about all forms of courage in different stages of one’s life. You know, it happens in all ways: it happens when people speak up, I mean first and foremost, you’ve got to be afraid to have courage. When I talked to students about courage I would say that; that if you’re afraid, and then you go ahead and do the thing that you’re afraid to do, that’s what courage is. So, I’m reading ‘Courage’, by Anne Sexton.
It is in the small things we see it.
The child's first step,
as awesome as an earthquake.
The first time you rode a bike,
wallowing up the sidewalk.
The first spanking when your heart
went on a journey all alone.
When they called you crybaby
or poor or fatty or crazy
and made you into an alien,
you drank their acid
and concealed it.
Later,
if you faced the death of bombs and bullets
you did not do it with a banner,
you did it with only a hat to
comver your heart.
You did not fondle the weakness inside you
though it was there.
Your courage was a small coal
that you kept swallowing.
If your buddy saved you
and died himself in so doing,
then his courage was not courage,
it was love; love as simple as shaving soap.
Later,
if you have endured a great despair,
then you did it alone,
getting a transfusion from the fire,
picking the scabs off your heart,
then wringing it out like a sock.
Next, my kinsman, you powdered your sorrow,
you gave it a back rub
and then you covered it with a blanket
and after it had slept a while
it woke to the wings of the roses
and was transformed.
Later,
when you face old age and its natural conclusion
your courage will still be shown in the little ways,
each spring will be a sword you'll sharpen,
those you love will live in a fever of love,
and you'll bargain with the calendar
and at the last moment
when death opens the back door
you'll put on your carpet slippers
and stride out.
Poetry Friday is produced by KNAU's Gillian Ferris. If you have an idea for a segment, drop her an email at Gillian.Ferris@nau.edu.
