by Theodore Roethke

My wrath, where’s the edge
Of the fine shapely thought
That I carried so long
When so young, when so young

My rage, what’s to be
The soul’s privilege?
Will the heart eat the heart?
What’s to come? What’s to come?

O love, you who hear
The slow tick of time
In your sea-buried ear,
Tell me now, tell me now.

–from The Collected Poems of Theodore Roethke
Random House, Inc.

About Travis Mateer

I'm an artist and citizen journalist living and writing in Montana. You can contact me here: willskink at yahoo dot com
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2 Responses to SONG

  1. Craig Moore says:

    I’m am thinking as you transition from your current occupation to the your future, there is much rage in knowing that your efforts in attending to some of the most desperate and needy people are not appreciated by either them or Cadillac liberals that call the shots in Missoula. However, don’t look for a serviving of Vichyssoise, but rather accept you did your very best.

    Whenever I see a vet aged 22 to 92, either because that person is wearing a hat or otherwise revealed, I always thank them for their service.

    William, with the center years of your adult life dedicated to the needs of those most fragile, thank you for your service. People like you just don’t get the recognition for your efforts and the pains to your heart that come from your service. I wish you the best and the healing of Christmas for you and your family.

    • wow, thank you Craig, I really appreciate that. if I’ve learned anything it’s that there are lots of good people doing what they can within the confines of a broken system who don’t get the credit they deserve. for example, I have seen first hand how well trained police officers can deescalate a situation and have made a point of including those examples when given the opportunity.

      merry Christmas to you and yours

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