Hello Friends,
Yesterday’s poem-a-day discussed early warnings in the context of 2026. But we also find early warnings from the poets who came before us, as in this piece by Muriel Rukeyser, in which she grapples with exactly how poets (and others) can pass these warnings forward. For context, Rukeyser lived from 1913 to 1980, and this particular poem was published in Rukeyser’s 1968 collection The Speed of Darkness. When Rukeyser repeats the line “I lived in the first century of these wars,” I believe she does so in part to emphasize that first implies another century to come.
Thank you again for celebrating poetry month with me.
— Ællen
Yesterday’s poem-a-day discussed early warnings in the context of 2026. But we also find early warnings from the poets who came before us, as in this piece by Muriel Rukeyser, in which she grapples with exactly how poets (and others) can pass these warnings forward. For context, Rukeyser lived from 1913 to 1980, and this particular poem was published in Rukeyser’s 1968 collection The Speed of Darkness. When Rukeyser repeats the line “I lived in the first century of these wars,” I believe she does so in part to emphasize that first implies another century to come.
Thank you again for celebrating poetry month with me.
— Ællen
Poem (I lived in the first century of world wars)
I lived in the first century of world wars.
Most mornings I would be more or less insane,
The newspapers would arrive with their careless stories,
The news would pour out of various devices
Interrupted by attempts to sell products to the unseen.
I would call my friends on other devices;
They would be more or less mad for similar reasons.
Slowly I would get to pen and paper,
Make my poems for others unseen and unborn.
In the day I would be reminded of those men and women,
Brave, setting up signals across vast distances,
Considering a nameless way of living, of almost unimagined values.
As the lights darkened, as the lights of night brightened,
We would try to imagine them, try to find each other,
To construct peace, to make love, to reconcile
Waking with sleeping, ourselves with each other,
Ourselves with ourselves. We would try by any means
To reach the limits of ourselves, to reach beyond ourselves,
To let go the means, to wake.
I lived in the first century of these wars.
■
I lived in the first century of world wars.
Most mornings I would be more or less insane,
The newspapers would arrive with their careless stories,
The news would pour out of various devices
Interrupted by attempts to sell products to the unseen.
I would call my friends on other devices;
They would be more or less mad for similar reasons.
Slowly I would get to pen and paper,
Make my poems for others unseen and unborn.
In the day I would be reminded of those men and women,
Brave, setting up signals across vast distances,
Considering a nameless way of living, of almost unimagined values.
As the lights darkened, as the lights of night brightened,
We would try to imagine them, try to find each other,
To construct peace, to make love, to reconcile
Waking with sleeping, ourselves with each other,
Ourselves with ourselves. We would try by any means
To reach the limits of ourselves, to reach beyond ourselves,
To let go the means, to wake.
I lived in the first century of these wars.
■