Breathe Air. Drink Water.
I’m almost to the end of Ursala Le Guin’s wonderful novel/imaginary-anthropology-report/love-letter-from-the-future, titled Always Coming Home, and I’m reluctant to move on.
So I’ll post this little snippet, a poem called The Writer to the Morning in Up The Hill House in Sinshan, by Little Bear Woman (one of the residents of Le Guin’s inspiring future/past world.)
Those who want fighting, let them smoke tobacco.
Those who want excitement, let them drink brandy.
Those who want withdrawal, let them smoke cannabis.
Those who want good talking, let them drink wine.
I don’t want any of those things at this moment.
Early in the morning I breathe air and drink water,
because what I want is clarity and silence
and one thin line of words on the white paper
drawn around my thoughts in clarity and silence.