Heaven bless the babe
Orphaned by divinity
What queer books she will read
Granted, to be a poet isn’t easy
When she is older, she will say:
“Till the Spring, my murdered lover
Till our souls meet in another form
The language of my foolishness
Will be the bridge I swear”
Heaven bless the babe
Who suffered for the world
To make a cheerful song
That could outlast the centuries
Quiet, suavely clothed in sacrifice
Hurling, golden spears of martyrdom
Up the lines my silver runner
With a pen and a canvas
Bearing the banner of lost poets
In a siege of a dead poet’s society
Heaven bless the babe
Who became a writer
When critics were white rich men
Come now Aphra, be content
You and I have nothing to do with music
Akhmatova’s cannon is all about
Death beating the door in
For women fraught with inequality
Emily knew in her circle of white
Edna urged a certain possession of zest
For being born a woman, is a clarity
In the pulse, a sonnet gone unread.
P.S. To female poets: Aphra Behn, Anna Akhmatova, Emily Dickinson, Edna St.Vincent Millay.
Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Sylvia-II-460402222
Wuji Seshat 
What inspired this poem?
A little bit of you and Shirlena (see my poetry book section), a little bit of the very sexist history of western poetry. I’m a bit of a feminist at times. Granted, female poets are more common than they once were, but still on the whole have a harder time to claim a fair reputation for their work.
I’m a student of the history of women poets for sure. What kind of a life did a Sylvia Plath or Anna Akhmatova have? It’s all there, to be read. And they were the fortunate ones…
Interesting..caught the dead poets soceity reference…but babe orphaned by divinity and what queer books she will read? but must say learning a lot by reading your poems..:) Thanks Wuji.. 🙂
Thanks Nishi, we meet so many people in blogging, though few that we feel may lead to friendship. I count you as such, I hope we can learn and grow together. It is more fun that way.
I don’t know about you, but for me the solitude of writing is sometimes strange.
In my peculiar imagination, I like to pretend or feel that I’m writing to readers of a future generation, or being read, dozens of years from now. In that projection into the future do I feel the most peaceful and productive as an artist.
Wuji, you do, write to future readers/generations – with so much knowledge of what we, the generation of the current and past, feel now and would have felt then – during “the shift.” But … you also right to us, you join together so many hearts, who share the same love, dismay and concern – and do so with such powerful creativity.