Miller Williams | Becoming is Superior to Being

Chase Morris (September 3, 2005) “eyes already set on a land we never can visit”
— Image by kenne

This image of Chase is one of my favorites, and so too is the Miller Williams poem, “Of History and Hope.” Both capture the essence of life. Williams has written, “I put myself in a spiritual and physical place where I’ve learned from experience the synapses are likely to fire and the juices are likely to flow, and simply begin to write” — read and feel the juices flowing.

— kenne

Of History and Hope

BY MILLER WILLIAMS

We have memorized America,
how it was born and who we have been and where.
In ceremonies and silence we say the words,
telling the stories, singing the old songs.
We like the places they take us. Mostly we do.
The great and all the anonymous dead are there.
We know the sound of all the sounds we brought.
The rich taste of it is on our tongues.
But where are we going to be, and why, and who?
The disenfranchised dead want to know.
We mean to be the people we meant to be,
to keep on going where we meant to go.

But how do we fashion the future? Who can say how
except in the minds of those who will call it Now?
The children. The children. And how does our garden grow?
With waving hands—oh, rarely in a row—
and flowering faces. And brambles, that we can no longer allow.

Who were many people coming together
cannot become one people falling apart.
Who dreamed for every child an even chance
cannot let luck alone turn doorknobs or not.
Whose law was never so much of the hand as the head
cannot let chaos make its way to the heart.
Who have seen learning struggle from teacher to child
cannot let ignorance spread itself like rot.
We know what we have done and what we have said,
and how we have grown, degree by slow degree,
believing ourselves toward all we have tried to become—
just and compassionate, equal, able, and free.

All this in the hands of children, eyes already set
on a land we never can visit—it isn’t there yet—
but looking through their eyes, we can see
what our long gift to them may come to be.
If we can truly remember, they will not forget.

The Williams_Music_01 Poet Miller Williams and Daughter, Singer/Songwriter Lucinda Williams — Google Image

I have six Lucinda Williams albums, which is a lot for my eclectic music tastes. Her music is so introspective with words that come from “down where the spirit meets the bone” — a line from her dad’s poem, “Compassion” and also the title of her latest album, “Down Where the Spirit Meets the Bone.” The album begins with her adaptation of “Compassion.”

Compassion

Have compassion for everyone you meet,

even if they don’t want it.

What appears bad manners,

an ill temper or cynicism

is always a sign

of things no ears have heard,

no eyes have seen.

You do not know what wars

are going on

down there where the spirit

meets the bone.”

— Miller Williams

This two-disc album is, for me, her best. Like most of her music, it’s best listen to during quiet times — over and over, and over, over and over.

In a September 12, 2014 Billboard article, Lucinda was quoted:

“My dad was always adamant about the differentiation between poetry and songs,” Williams says. “In the past I’d send him a couple of things that I said, ‘Maybe this might be a poem,’ and he said, ‘Honey, I think this wants to be a song.’ I really want to look at some of his other poems and see if I can do that again.”

All I have to say is, what is it about those academic literary types that makes them the supreme judge of what is poetry? Listen to her songs, they are beautiful no matter what you may call them.

Leonard Cohen once said, “Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.” I hope Lucinda keeps spreading the ashes for a long time.

kenne