tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-396907022029426196.post6246332779500296243..comments2024-01-26T10:34:00.497-05:00Comments on My 3,000 Loving Arms: Adrienne Rich's "Song"Sarah Saraihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17780959351098643176noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-396907022029426196.post-89439978559209827582012-04-13T12:04:08.508-04:002012-04-13T12:04:08.508-04:00Thanks, Margo. The poem was a surprise to me, too....Thanks, Margo. The poem was a surprise to me, too. Memory? Ignorance? Who cares. Ice-fast? And with a gift for burning. Best we can hope for.<br />warms,<br />SarahSarah Saraihttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17780959351098643176noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-396907022029426196.post-64333406850282499842012-04-13T01:01:47.861-04:002012-04-13T01:01:47.861-04:00What a beautiful choice of Rich's to post, Sar...What a beautiful choice of Rich's to post, Sarah. Thank you. How did I not remember this poem? No matter. This last stanza will burn the ice for me for a long while. <br />"If I'm lonely<br />it's with the rowboat ice-fast on the shore<br />in the last red light of the year<br />that knows what it is, that knows it's neither<br />ice nor mud nor winter light<br />but wood, with a gift for burning" <br /><br />xxmargoMargo Berdeshevskyhttp://www.redroom.com/author/margo-berdeshevskynoreply@blogger.com