Dear Friends,
What a week.
One of my favorite contemporary poets, Ada Limón, published a new book of poetry this week. It’s her third compendium of poems and having somewhat exhausted her other two volumes, I’ve been looking forward to reading her new verses. I don’t buy a lot of books - only ones I’m certain I’ll read and reread for years to come - so, the books I tend to actually purchase, more often than not, are books of poems. To me, they are akin to musical albums - each poem a song I’ll play again and again, a mood I’ll tap into when the day calls for it, at set of verses that will get stuck in my head and guide me one way or another.
Though I’m taking some time with
“The Hurting Kind,” Limón’s latest, there’s this one poem from it that I’ve been playing on repeat this week. It’s captured my mood that’s been drifting back and forth between fearful overwhelm, awesome wonder, and courageous hope. It’s called “The Mountain Lion.”
I watched the video clip over and over,
night vision cameras flickering her eyes
an unholy green, the way she looked
the six-foot fence up and down
like it was nothing but a speed bump,
and cleared the man-made border
in one impressive leap. A glance
over the shoulder, an annoyance,
an "as if you could keep me out, or
keep me in." I don't know what it
was that made me press replay and
replay. It wasn't fear, though I'd be
terrified if I was face to face with
her, or heard her prowling in the night,
it was just that I don't think I've
ever made anything look so easy. Never
looked behind me and grinned or
grimaced because nothing could stop
me. I like the idea of it though, felt
like a dream you could will into being:
See a fence? Jump it.
What a week, my friends.
I celebrate your inner mountain lion, our inner mountain lion. As if they could keep you, keep me, keep us out or keep us in.
Yours in love, rage, and jumping fences - here we go,
Rev. Hillary
