For this week’s writer’s quote, I want to try something different. But of course, it requires you guys to play along. So, last time, I shared the poem “thoughtless cruelty” by Charles Lamb. This week, what I’m going to do is share a poem and leave it up to you guys to guess the author. Are you ready? Okay.
The author wrote the poem below at the bare age of fourteen. I am almost 21 and I can only hope to write as good as that some day. When the author was asked regarding the poem, she said “Once a poem is made available to the public, the right of interpretation belongs to the reader”. I absolutely agree with that. Here is the poem below:
I thought that I could not be hurt;
I thought that I must surely be
impervious to suffering-
immune to pain
or agony.
My world was warm with April sun
my thoughts were spangled green and gold;
my soul filled up with joy, yet
felt the sharp, sweet pain that only joy
can hold.
My spirit soared above the gulls
that, swooping breathlessly so high
o’erhead, now seem to brush their whir-
ring wings against the blue roof of
the sky.
(How frail the human heart must be-
a throbbing pulse, a trembling thing-
a fragile, shining instrument
of crystal, which can either weep,
or sing.)
Then, suddenly my world turned gray,
and darkness wiped aside my joy.
A dull and aching void was left
where careless hands had reached out to
destroy
my silver web of happiness.
The hands then stopped in wonderment,
for, loving me, they wept to see
the tattered ruins of my firma-
ment
(How frail the human heart must be-
a mirrored pool of thought. So deep
and tremulous an instrument
of glass that it can either sing,
or weep).
As I asked at the beginning, who do you know write the poem? Looking forward to your answers in the comments, come on, don’t hide your knowledge. 🙂