Second Annual (Cyber) Poetry Slam In Honor Of The Goddess Brigid

The God Forsakes Antony
~by Constantine P. Cavafy

When suddenly, at midnight, you hear
an invisible procession going by
with exquisite music, voices,
don’t mourn your luck that’s failing now,
work gone wrong, your plans
all proving deceptive—don’t mourn them uselessly.

As one long prepared, and graced with courage,
say goodbye to her, the Alexandria that is leaving.
Above all, don’t fool yourself, don’t say
it was a dream, your ears deceived you:
don’t degrade yourself with empty hopes like these.

As one long prepared, and graced with courage,
as is right for you who were given this kind of city,
go firmly to the window
and listen with deep emotion, but not
with the whining, the pleas of a coward;
listen—your final delectation—to the voices,
to the exquisite music of that strange procession,
and say goodbye to her, to the Alexandria you are losing.

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There's no way that I could ever pick one favorite poem. But I selected this one for today for two reasons. First, it's about as perfect a poem as a poem can be, especially if you understand a bit of the backstory. And, second, I've been thinking a lot about this weirdly mild winter that we've been having and what it may portend for the Planet, for my own little garden, for G/son. If we're watching the end of an Era (and I think we are), then this is how we ought to watch it.