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 Contents | July/August 2003 More on poetry from The Atlantic Monthly. |
The Norwegian Grandson
by Robert Bly .....  Hear the author read this poem (in RealAudio)I am the grandchild of Norwegian forgetters. I am a nephew of those who stole the onions. We are all guests at the criminal's wedding. We sense despair and injustice when we pick up A fallen wren's nest, but we love to feel The little crackling of the abandoned eggshells. Drinking a drop of water increases our thirst. Black-and-white movies intensify our longing For night to arrive and take over from day. The shadowy cave we live in extends far out Over the world. Plato said that. Even Amundsen And all his dogs couldn't find the end of it. Stars have set so often in the woods without Bringing the Magi, that the badger drinks Sadness each time his nose touches the water. Last night I brought my grief to my teacher. I asked him what I could do about that. He said, "I thought you came because you liked me!"
Robert Bly's most recent books of poetry include Eating the Honey of Words: New and Selected Poems (1999) and The Night Abraham Called to the Stars (2001). Copyright © 2003 by The Atlantic Monthly Group. All rights reserved. The Atlantic Monthly; July/August 2003; The Norwegian Grandson; Volume 292, No. 1; 64. |
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