Today’s new thing came about as a very last-minute way to save the day. I was intending on making lip balms with a friend, but unfortunately, she had to cancel due to being rushed to the hospital. The lengths some people go to to get out of doing something!
I’m joking of course, and my friend is ok now, but she did have a nasty bump to the head. I went to the hospital to stay with her, but as with most emergency rooms we were there for a large part of the day. I tried to make the best out of a bad situation and cheer her up: attempting to use a spare stethoscope when we were left alone in an examination room, but getting scared that I was going to get caught, had us in hysterics at my cowardice. We were still in a hospital at the end of the day though; not exactly a fun place.
By the time I got home, it was already late, so in order to fit in something new that was a bit more positive (it didn’t feel right using my friend’s misfortune as something to cross off my list), I remembered about a book of poetry I’d bought when I was last in the UK. Like most people, the last time I’d read poetry was in school, so when I found this beautiful old book in a charity shop, I decided to pick it up and give it a whirl.
There is a stamp inside that says it’s from 1964, and it looks like it was used as a school book – I guess some things never change. After having a flick through I was taken by one poem by a poet I’d not heard of: The Confirmation by Edwin Muir.
Yes, yours, my love, is the right human face.
I in my mind had waited for this long,
Seeing the false and searching for the true,
Then found you as a traveller finds a place
Of welcome suddenly amid the wrong
Valleys and rocks and twisting roads. But you,
What shall I call you? A fountain in a waste,
A well of water in a country dry,
Or anything that’s honest and good, an eye
That makes the whole world bright. Your open heart,
Simple with giving, gives the primal deed,
The first good world, the blossom, the blowing seed,
The hearth, the steadfast land, the wandering sea,
Not beautiful or rare in every part,
But like yourself, as they were meant to be
I’m not going to pretend to be a poetry expert, but this sounded so beautiful and romantic to me: he’s not in the first throes of love, but the deep, familiar kind that comes with time. It was such a nice feeling to end the day with this lovely poem.
New Day, New Thing 