Today I dipped into Being Alive, the second of Neil Astley’s excellent anthologies of contemporary poetry (the others are Staying Alive and Being Human). They remain the best of their kind in my opinion.
The blurb says…
Being Alive is about being human: about love and loss, fear and longing, hurt and wonder.
Damn right. You could replace the anthology title with “Poetry” and it would be true. I know I ramble (sometimes ineloquently), but if I were to rewrite my “About” section I could at least say that was my intent.
I don’t do politics here. Others do it better than I could.
Today I found this poem by Yehuda Amichai.
The Diameter of the Bomb
The diameter of the bomb was thirty centimeters
and the diameter of its effective
range – about seven meters.
And in it four dead and eleven wounded.
And around them in a greater circle
of pain and time are scattered
two hospitals and one cemetery.
But the young woman who was
buried where she came from
over a hundred kilometers away
enlarges the circle greatly.
And the lone man who weeps over her death
in a far corner of a distant country
includes the whole world in the circle.
And I won’t speak at all about the crying of orphans
that reaches to the seat of God
and from there onward, making
the circle without end and without God.